


All My Songs Are For You

by sunriseandsunshine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Also they're in NYC, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And from America, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Harry, Cameraman Louis, Fluff and Angst, Grinding, Louis is a big idiot who sucks at feelings, M/M, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Niall and Liam are in the band with Harry, Oral Sex, Riding, Semi-Public Sex, Singer-Songwriter Harry Styles, Top Louis, Zayn is a film guy like Louis, alternative universe, filmmaker louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunriseandsunshine/pseuds/sunriseandsunshine
Summary: At the end of a long day on set, Louis wanders into a dive bar. He expects to find some decent beer, not the best indie band he's ever seen at a place like this and some great friends. But most unexpected is Harry Styles. The frontman of said band, with his tattoos and long hair and an inability to button his sheer shirts, who he falls for almost instantly.or Louis is a cameraman and Harry is a singer in a band. Their connection is instant and as much as Louis may want to fight it, nobody can resist the magnetic pull of Harry Styles.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Liam Payne/Sophia Smith, Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 176





	1. I've Had a Day (But You Made It Better)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoy the fic, feel free to get in touch with me: 
> 
> tumblr- louisbrave28 
> 
> tiktok- 91styless
> 
> twitter- nobodynovibezz

Louis can’t even remember a time when he wasn’t making movies. He felt like he was born with a camera in his hand. Always trying to find the perfect shot. When he didn’t have his camera in his hand, he had his laptop and was typing up a new script. Some of his best memories are sitting in his basement with his mates making dumb videos well into the night. He had spent most of his high school with the goal of going to film school on the west coast. His dream had come to fruition around 6 years ago and he's lived in Los Angeles ever since. For 2 years he had gotten a few odd jobs on short films but nothing of real substance yet. He knew what he was, a fresh out of film school idiot with big plans and a small apartment. His determination to direct his own feature-length film was enough. He knows that to get there, he has to take what he can get until he makes the right connections. That’s why when Zayn texted him about a job that would be in New York City, he said yes almost immediately.

That decision had landed him here, after one of the worst days he’s ever had on a set, nursing a beer in a dive bar. The director had yelled at him and treated him like he was incompetent the whole day, which he isn’t. Sure, he may not have much experience but his reel showed that he was more than competent at what he does. He didn’t need some wannabe Scorsese up his ass the whole day. It felt like turtleneck (as he and Zayn had dubbed him) was full of complaints and nothing but.

The bartender, a gorgeous woman with short brown locs and a simple nose stud, placed his beer in front of him. “Want me to open a tab?” She smiled sympathetically, “You look like you need it.”

“That obvious?” She nodded. “Right then. Let me find my card.”

He handed it over, taking a sip from the bottle. “Get too sloppy and I’m cutting you off though," She said with a finger pointed.

As she walked off, Louis took the time to appreciate his surroundings. Although the place was definitively a dive, he felt pretty at home. There was 90’s hits playing faintly, drowned out by the chatter amongst his fellow patrons. It took him back to his college days. He had spent most nights partying and most of the days attending classes and nursing a hangover. He took his card back and smiled, polite as ever, before going back to looking around the place. That’s when he noticed the stage. It was small and almost completely empty, save for the drum kit and some amps. The music that had been playing faded out as the band got on the stage. There wasn’t a band playing when he walked in, so he hadn’t expected there to be one tonight. The band didn’t seem to be anything special, the usual type you would find in a dive bar. But what was special was the man in the middle. He was tall, first off. His hair so long you could tie it up into a bun with no issue (and other things but Louis was not about to go there.) The button-up he had on was sheer, and he hesitates to even call it that, seeing as he only cared to button 3 of them. He was captivating, with that natural kind of stage presence that you can only be born with. Louis watched as they began to set up and get situated to play their set.

“Like what you see?” He jumped before realizing it was the bartender. “They’re real good. Enjoy the show.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively, before going back to what she had been doing before.

Louis rolled his eyes and took another swig of his (now half-empty) beer.

The guy on the left, a blonde man with dark roots, started strumming at the guitar in his hands. It sounded like the typical music you would expect from a group like theirs. That’s when the guy on drums shouted out a four-count and the song really started. Although his eyes would veer from time to time, they stayed glued on the lead singer. He looked born to entertain people. He seemed his most comfortable up on the small stage singing his heart out to the crowd of people. Most of whom had begun to tap their feet along to the beat, Louis included. Despite his initial reservations, he found himself getting into the music quite easily. They were a talented group of guys, all of them seeming to be wonderful on their own but even better together. They seemed cohesive. But what was interesting to him is how individual they all were. They had clear visual differences, like hair color and style, to punctuate that point. It worked incredibly well. As the song ends, he hears a loud applause break out in the venue.

The leading man takes that moment as his opportunity to say a few words. “Hi, I’m Harry as some of you may already know. That’s Niall,” He pointed to his left, “And this is Liam,” He pointed to the drummer, “And we’re One Direction. Hope you enjoy our set tonight. We’ve got some great songs for you. Next up is Midnight Memories.”

A whistle comes from one of the tables and the guy, whose name is Harry he now knows, can only giggle, yes giggle, and mimic it before signaling to the other guys that he’s ready to go.

If he thought the last song was good, this one was amazing. It was a pop-rock number but Harry’s deep yet smooth voice elevated it to another level. When the chorus hit and Niall and Liam began to sing with him, the harmonies were as close to perfect as he’s ever heard from a band like this. Louis was more than impressed, he felt blown away. Literally, he almost fell off the stool.

“Getting sloppy or just really into the…” She takes a look up at the stage and narrows her eyes, “Music.”

“The music, I can hold my alcohol, thank you very much,” He says.

The bartender only laughs and rests her elbows on the bar, “You’d probably like to know that they’re here every Friday,”

Louis gives her a look. “Why would I like to know that?”

She pauses for a moment before deciding to ignore his question completely, “I’m Haley, by the way. Since I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around here a lot more…” She waits, expecting him to give his name.

“Louis,” He smiles.

Haley grabs the bottle before pulling another one from under the bar. “Cute name for a cute guy. Fitting,” She opens it before sliding it over.

“I’m not into girls, love.”

“Yeah, gathered that much from watching you stare at Styles like a serial killer.”

He takes a moment before it registers that Styles must be Harry’s surname. Which... if that’s not the most celebrity name ever. Everything is pointing to this man being grown in a test tube by a mad scientist to be the next big thing. I mean, what kind of name is that? Harry fucking Styles. Why did he have to walk into this dive bar? What God did he piss off that sent a creature like this his way, I mean honestly. The man has the looks, the voice, the stage presence, the name. And, just Louis’ luck, he lives on the complete opposite coast as him and is probably straight. Even if he isn’t, the odds he would be into him are slim to none. It would do him good to shut this train of thought down before it goes off the rails completely.

“I was not!” Louis laughs.

She hits his shoulder lightly with the rag she had been wiping the counter off with. “You were!”

He pouted before turning away from her. He heard her say a quick “Doing it again,” before walking off to the guy sitting about 7 feet from him with an empty glass.

He ignored her and went back to enjoying the show. They had already played about 4 songs by this point, each one better than the last. After the current one ends, Harry began to speak again. His voice is just as slow and rich as his singing voice. “This is our new one, here’s Ever Since New York.”

He picks up a guitar and begins to play, just as talented on the instrument as he had been singing. The song is slower but it shows off his vocals so well that Louis can’t bring himself to look away. He thinks back to his own guitar, sitting in his apartment back in Los Angeles collecting dust. The last time he played was so far back he can't even remember when. Not to mention all he had done was strum it a few times before setting it down and never picking it back up. It’s just not his thing. Not the way that it’s so clearly Harry’s. He’s set on the beautiful man on stage and that’s when it happens, Harry makes eye contact. Louis feels his face heat before he looks away and turns back to see where Haley had gone to like a coward.

When he realizes he has no clue where she is, he turns back to the stage right as the song has finished its final chorus. Harry finishes it off with just guitar. He thanks everyone for listening before announcing that this would be the final song. It's almost crazy how the whole bar comes alive with this song, he sees people at the tables get up and dance to it. It's the brightest he's the place since he got here. If he had more confidence, he'd likely join the people dancing but he settles for tapping along on his thigh. The energy in the place is high and the applause they get at the end is much more enthusiastic than at the start of the set.

Harry's all smiles when they finish. He starts thanking everyone for listening before leaving the stage, guitar in hand. Louis finds himself watching as he puts it back into the case and starts to help the other guys to pack up their stuff. Haley comes back a few moments later to hand him another beer. “You know, I would’ve quit if it weren’t for them. They definitely make these nights bearable. Harry’s great, by the way. Him and the rest of ‘em have been writing songs since they were teenagers. Really, they’re wonderful guys. Talented as hell, too.”

“Definitely talented.” He says, chancing a look over their direction. “Also nice to hear a band of white dudes at a bar not play the same old ‘i hate this town’ bullshit.”

She laughs, so hard it draws some attention in the less full bar. People had been filtering out as the night had winded down, but once the band had finished most people had left. There was a handful of others still nursing their drinks and chatting. There was enough for it to still cover up the music that had resumed once the set had finished.

It even draws the attention of Harry, who makes his way over to the bar top. “What’s all this noise?” He teases, drawing Haley into a hug. “What’d ya think?”

“It was wonderful, H, honestly. My new friend here," She motions to Louis, "loved it,”

He can only smile, suddenly tongue-tied while he makes eye contact with him again. Harry smiles back at him, his dimple making an appearance before sticking a hand out. “Always nice to meet a fan.”

He can’t even help the laugh that escapes him. “Louis."

"What brings you here, Louis?"

"‘m not from here, here for work for a few months.” He takes a sip from his own beer as Haley hands Harry one. “You guys were great tonight.”

“Thanks,” He taps his bottle against the neck of Louis’, making a soft clink before bringing it to his mouth.

Now that he’s so close to him, he’s able to notice little things that he hadn’t been able to see before. First was the dimple, and now is the details of the tattoos he had spotted earlier. He’s got swallows peaking out from his open shirt, a bunch of nautical themed ones, and a small cross on his hand. And those are only the ones he can see right now. He’s also got rings on most of his fingers and his pink fingernails are almost as eye-catching as the jewelry.

“Way better than the last band I saw in a dive bar.”

“Thanks?” He rubs at the back of his neck, giving Louis a view of his bicep as it stretches the sheer fabric. “Bit of a weird compliment.”

Haley chooses that moment to come back over, “A weird compliment is still a compliment. And I know he means it, he was totally into the set.”

He gives a weak laugh, more of an exhale than anything. “Yeah. I’ll definitely try to catch you guys again while I’m still in town.”

“How long are you here for?” She asks.

“A few months, not really sure. It all depends on the director and he’s a bit of an ass, so we’ll see.” They both nod. “He’s the reason I had the day that led me here. Funny that.”

“Very funny,” She says, eyeing Louis suspiciously, before sliding out from behind the bar to go wipe down tables.

They sit in silence for a bit before Harry speaks again. "So, uh, hope to see you again, Louis.”

“You will, Harry,” He says.

They sat for a few moments before he got up from his stool. He said a simple goodbye and gave a soft wave to Haley before leaving. He left the dive bar feeling way better than he had when he walked into it. Louis knew where he was going to end up spending his nights while in the city. He was starting to fall in love with the whole atmosphere of it, the busy streets had a charm that LA didn’t. He also much preferred to take the subway than deal with the insane traffic he’s used to back home. The whole ride home in the empty car was spent thinking of Harry. Which is insane, he just met the guy and he’s already managed to have a complete monopoly over his thoughts. Louis could blame the alcohol still in his system but he would be lying to himself. It had been so, so long since he had felt this drawn to someone. But Harry was magnetic and Louis is definitely not strong enough to resist his pull. A part of him doesn’t even want to try.

But he’s not in the city for long enough to start something he can’t finish. His life is in LA. His future, his dream, his career. So no matter how good it feels to sit on a subway car and think about the pretty boy from the dive bar, Louis knows better. He’s just getting started in the industry, he knows how cutthroat it can be. He knows he’s good enough and determined enough to make it. a curly-headed singer with sheer shirts doesn’t fit into the neatly designed plan he’s plotted out for his life. No matter how cute he is.

So, Louis will go back to the dive bar. On one condition, do not fall for Harry Styles.


	2. Occam's Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis brings Zayn to the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to sydney for reading this for me. ur the bestest.

After long, long overnights on the location the entire week, Louis finds himself back in the pub on Friday night. This time with Zayn, who complained the whole shoot that he couldn’t wait to get drunk tonight. Louis had told him about the bar. But mostly about the band that had been there rather than the actual place or ambiance or drink quality. He had eyed him suspiciously the whole time that he talked about their set.

They sat in the same spot as the last time and complained about their director until Haley bounded over. “Hey, Louis, who’s your friend here?”

" ‘M Zayn, nice to meet you,” He gave a borderline flirtatious smile.

“Haley. You here for the show tonight?”

Louis accepted the drink she slid to him graciously. “Yeah, we are,” He answered.

“I’ve got other customers to serve but I’ll be back to chat. Later.”

As she walked off, Zayn smacked him on the arm. “Ow! The hell?”

“Tommo, she’s gorgeous.”

He choked on his drink. “Hadn’t noticed.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t,” He took a swig and turned around to face the stage. “When are they supposed to start again?”

Louis opens his mouth but a tap followed by a screech from the speaker feedback interrupts him. They turn their attention back to the stage where Harry is standing. Hand on the microphone stand, and an apologetic smile on his face. He sees Niall plugging his guitar into the amp and Liam messing with his hair, a drum stick between his fingers. Harry’s shirt is not transparent this time, but instead, it’s made of soft-looking silk. It’s still barely buttoned. His tattoos are visible and cross necklace glimmering from the stage lighting. He looks unreasonably tan for it being fall in New York. The golden tint only made better by the soft yellow stream pointed at him from above. He looks like a statue of a Greek God you would see inside a crumbling ruin, not a real life man inside a dive bar. The sleeves are shorter than the previous one. Allowing Louis to see his biceps even from the distance. The material hugged them nicely, the white silk cuffed to show even more skin. The rose on his arm that Louis had only gotten a peek of during their short chat at the bar, is probably his favorite yet. Only rivaled by swallows on his collarbones.

He snaps out of his trance, turning back to Zayn who hasn’t said anything yet but is clearly thinking. “Stop it before you start,” He warns him.

His only response is to laugh. Whatever he had planned to say next shelved when Harry begins to speak. His voice is just as unfairly attractive as it had been the previous time. “Hello, we’re One Direction. I’m Harry, this is Niall and that’s Liam. We’ve got a good set for you all tonight, kicking off with a personal favorite of mine: Stockholm Syndrome.”

The audience gives off the same less than enthusiastic applause as last time. They seemed unphased and Niall starts off the song. Liam sits, stick twirling in his fingers as Harry starts off his verse. As soon as he starts singing, it’s like every eye on the place is on him. Watching as he grips the mic stand and gets into it, the volume of the chorus amplified by Liam and Niall’s voices. It comes together beautifully. It seems like the bar’s patrons have finally found their energy. Even the bar staff are dancing as they carry trays and wipe down the few empty tables scattered around the place. He spots Haley, a swing to her hips as she carries a drink over to a table in the far corner. She goes behind the bar again, making her way over to where he and Zayn have situated themselves.

“Refills, boys?”

Zayn picks up his bottle and swishes around the remaining liquid. “Yeah,” He answers.

“Coming right up,” Haley says, tapping the bartop and heading to the opposite side.

Louis watches him survey the surroundings and doesn’t miss his foot tapping to the beat, “This place is really something man. Might have just stumbled upon a gem.”

“That might just be because every time you have gone to a bar, you go with the sole purpose of meeting women.”

“I do not!” He grabs the beer that Haley had just brought over and rushes out a thank you, “You’ve got it all messed up and you know it.”

“Ah, you brought a ladies man in the bar, did you?” She teases.

“See! And now Haley has the wrong impression about me.”

Louis scoffs. “She probably got that impression when you decided to flirt 2 seconds after I introduced you to her. You’re a red-blooded straight man, you can’t help it.”

“I resent that you always only think of me as a straight man,”

Haley giggles as she watches the exchange, head resting on her palms. “Enough, you two,” She hits them lightly with the rag that was resting next to her. “You tell him about your little crush on Harry?”

Zayn’s neck must hurt from how fast his head whips to look at Louis. His eyes are like daggers, full of accusations. “No, he did not.”

He gives her a look. “I didn’t tell you because I don’t.”

Both of them look completely unconvinced, so he continues, “Really guys, I mean I’m not blind. He’s attractive. But I don’t have a crush. This isn’t high school.

“Fine. You don’t have a crush," Zayn agrees. "You have totally grown-up feelings about the guy, who is exactly your type. And who just happens to play at the dive bar you brought me to for drinks tonight after work.” He says with overflowing sarcasm.

“Oooh, he’s your type. The plot thickens.” Haley adds, an amused smile on her face.

The two of them start to laugh like they’re already best friends after barely an hour of knowing one another. As much as Louis hates this, because trust him he really does, it’s also a really nice feeling. It’s the first time in a while he’s felt this kind of happiness. The kind that makes you feel warm and fuzzy from your fingers to your toes. His biggest reservation about taking this job was the fear he’d feel like a fish out of water when they weren’t shooting. He figured he’d have bad sleep and wouldn’t be able to relax until he was back in Los Angeles. Instead, it seemed to flip. He felt his most comfortable in this dive bar. His least comfortable was on set with the biggest asshole of a director Louis had ever worked with. He can only roll his eyes at their antics, his smile giving him away completely. “Introducing you two was my biggest mistake yet.”

“It really was,” Haley agreed.

She wipes off the counter in front of them before walking over to the woman sitting 6 chairs down. He and Zayn settle into silence and his gaze drifts back to where Harry is still on stage, the band having already finished two songs. At some point, he had picked up his guitar and began to play. The song was not as rock as the others had been but it fit their vibe well. Zayn nudges him and teased him crudely, “He’s real good with his hands, eh?”

“Shut the fuck up, now,” Louis warned half-heartedly, taking a swig from his beer.

The whole crowd, similarly to last time, has slowly stopped paying so much attention to them. But they’re still playing their hearts out, so clearly in their element. After the song ends, he sees Haley walk up with 3 bottles of water in her hands. She takes Niall’s empty one and they have an exchange that Louis notes in his head to tease her for later. Payback will be a bitch, that’s for sure. They all graciously accept and she comes back over, a faint red tint to her cheeks. Zayn starts to laugh beside him and he turns to shoot a look at him. “He kinda looks like a frog.”

He feels his eyes widen with the realization that he’s right. Harry totally looks like a frog, a very sexy frog, but still... a frog. Zayn has devolved into his standard hiccup laugh he’s famous for when drunk. Louis is buzzed himself, the alcohol flowing through his veins pleasantly. Releasing the built-up tension from his shoulders each sip. He’s forgotten the circumstances that led to him coming here in the first place. It speaks volumes to the bar and its energy, but mostly the band that plays every Friday night. The band whose lead singer Louis has decided to put a strict “Do Not Catch Feelings” warning label on. He’s always been decent at compartmentalizing things like emotions, but especially people. He likes to put them in pretty little boxes in his mind: friend, family, acquaintance, colleague, more-than-a-friend, stranger. But then there’s Harry. Tall, frog-faced, tattooed, long-haired, silk shirt wearing Harry. He doesn’t fit into any box and he hates it.

He tears his eyes from the man in the center of the stage, trying to focus on the other men in the band. There’s Liam, who’s currently hitting the drums like he’s got a vendetta against them. His style is simple. He seems like the more serious of the three. More mature. His hair is not as long as Harry, but it’s not as short as Niall’s. A nice medium length with a center part that vaguely reminds him of something from the 80s. Then there’s Niall, who makes up for what he lacks in hair with his giant smile and infectious laughter. Anytime Harry stumbles a bit or tells a bad joke, the tension is immediately cut by his loud laugh. He’s the closest thing to sunshine in human form that Louis has ever seen. He hadn’t paid much mind to them, too caught up in watching Harry to really take either of them in. Although neither of them may be the frontman, they’re equally as talented and passionate about their respective instruments. If Harry was born to be on stage, Niall came out with a guitar in his hands and Liam with a drumstick twirling between his fingers. He likes to imagine tiny baby hands holding a comically large drumstick/guitar for those two images because they give him a good giggle. Louis can see why they bring the crowds that they do, they’re good. As much as they look like the typical shitty indie band made up of white guys, they’re anything but. Louis finds himself becoming more and more grateful that he came into this dive bar. He’s truly stumbled onto something great.

Harry starts talking then, his pace slow, “This one’s Temporary Fix. It’s new, and all Niall so if it sucks, blame him.” He hears Haley giggle and turns to give her a questioning look that she just waves off. “Oh, and it’s our last one for the night, sorry folks.”

Liam counts it off and he and Niall start at the same time. The tempo is fast and the sound immediately strikes him as rock. Louis’ hand slaps at his thigh to it. Instead of Harry singing the opening verse though, it’s Niall. His voice isn’t as deep as Harry’s, but it’s got this unique tone that he really digs the second he hears it isolated. Liam has the lead-in line for the chorus, the other two joining in to make it as full as possible and he watches Zayn start to bob his head. It goes back to the same instrumental as the first verse and Harry starts. His voice is deeper than he’s ever heard it with a tone that Louis can only describe as sexy. It fits with the lyrics about casual sex so well and when the chorus comes back in, he’s already hooked. He doesn’t ever want this song to end. It does end though, with Niall’s last line and a final drum hit by Liam. The place erupts into applause, it’s loud and littered with whistles and cheers. He briefly wonders if he’s ever seen a show so good, even ones that he’s paid good money for.

Harry was still up on stage, taking it all in when he took notice of Louis. He smiled brightly, brighter than the lights still shining on him and mouthed “hey” away from the mic. He waved back and pretended not to notice the small frown when he noticed Zayn next to him. Just as he had the previous night, he watched for a bit as they packed up but turned back around to jump into the conversation that he and Haley had started. To his surprise, Niall had made his way over and was sitting next to Zayn. He saw her making him a drink, her face the same shade of red as the last time he saw them interacting. They were chatting about what he was doing in the city and he listened as Zayn started to explain what they actually did. Niall, to his credit, seemed genuinely interested. He was asking insightful questions every few moments. Haley made jokes as she listened in and cleaned up the bartop. People started to filter out and it made it harder and harder to ignore Harry, who was making his way over with Liam. He turned back around and tried his hardest to focus in on the conversation.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, a hand with rings and lots of them. Louis didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “Hale, make me my usual?”

“‘Course, H,” She moved to grab a glass as Harry sat beside him.

“You came back,” He said.

Louis smiled. “I said I would, Popstar,”

Haley handed him his drink and grabbed Louis’ empty, giving him an odd look. “And you brought a… friend,” His tone was suspicious, jealous almost.

“Zayn’s my best mate, got me the job out here in the first place,” Harry simply nodded. “He’s straight, big guy, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

That got a laugh of him, causing him to almost spit out his drink. “What is it that you do again?”

“I work in film, I’m a cameraman.”

“Cameraman, huh? Sounds like a fun gig.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. Until the director is a total asshat. The whole time on set today was spent thinking about getting drunk after we finally wrapped for the day.”

Harry’s eyes stay trained on him, rings clinking against his glass as he goes to pick it up for another sip. “Why do you do it then?”

He takes a minute to really consider the question. That proves to be difficult when he has Harry fucking Styles staring at him like he’s the only thing in the room. “You can’t get to where you want to be without putting up with a few tough jobs. I mean, that’d be like asking you why you play here instead of... MSG,” Louis answers.

He nods. “You’re something, Louis.”

“As are you, Harry.”

Even with him sitting right there in front of Louis, he felt himself missing these times already. The Anticipation of Loss, he had remembered from the psych class he took in college. He was a classic overthinker. He'd miss out on stuff because he was already beginning to dread not having them. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. Like when he was in his last semester of college and spent 3 weeks holed up in his apartment. All because he was filled with such trepidation about graduating. Not to mention everything that goes with it, like moving on and being a real adult with a degree and tons of debt. His brain was able to spiral like a staircase at the littlest thing. It was a talent really. It could completely get the best of him, without him even realizing until too late.

He spaced back in when Haley made her way back over and waved a hand in his face. “You good?” She asked, ”Want a water?”

“Yeah, water’s great, thanks,” He looks over to where Harry is.

He’s silent, clearly in some deep thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever know what was going on in that kid’s brain. Like he could hear his thoughts, he looks to Louis. His eyes study his face like he’s got an exam on it tomorrow, but they keep lingering on his lips and he’s trying to ignore it. The keyword is trying. It’s hard to have a man as beautiful as Harry staring at his lips and not lean in, but Louis does have some self-control. Contrary to whatever Haley and Zayn likely believe. She takes that moment to come back over with a glass of ice water and a mischievous look in her eye. He can tell from the moment she comes over that whatever is about to come out of her mouth is not going to be good.

He stops her before she can even start, “So, Niall?” He whispers, albeit quite loud.

Harry snickers beside him, “He finally make a move on you?”

She blushes a fierce red for the third time that night and hits him on the shoulder for the second time. “No and no,” She says sternly. “Why? Why did I think this would be a good combination?”

The pair burst into laughter as she thinks out loud. He knows he could keep this bit going, get some of that payback he had intended on earlier, but he instead opts to save it and have some mercy. Haley is giving them her best, ‘I am not amused,’ look right now which only causes him to start laughing even harder, his whole body shaking with it. Harry is in a similar state. It all feels so easy. He feels so at home, he notes how odd that is, seeing as his real home is almost 3,000 miles away. But he hasn’t felt happiness this genuine and real in such a long time that he’s not willing to dig deeper into why and potentially fuck it all up. He’s done that far too many times already.

“Oh, fuck, I almost forgot, Harry, this is my mate Zayn. Zayn, this is Harry.”

Zayn extends his hand in front of Louis towards him and he accepts it. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Yeah, no, you too. The show was great. Lou was right.”

That’s when he sees Harry perk up, “Oh, _Lou_ ,” His smirk is smug as ever, “What did you say about us?”

He knocks their shoulders together, “None of your business. Don’t need that head getting any bigger there, Popstar,” Louis teases.

Their banter is so easy the whole time they chat at the bar, that he hardly notices how late it’s getting. Haley’s got a jean jacket on and gives them the 5-minute warning and calls out, “Pack it up and take the party elsewhere people, I wanna go home!” once those 5 minutes are up.

Louis’ got his jacket on and watches as Harry grabs his blazer from atop the guitar case before picking that up as well. They part with a weird one-armed hug because of the large, heavy instrument in his hands and head opposite directions out of the bar.

Louis and Zayn are subletting a place for the duration of the shoot. He had come back the first night and rambled on about the bar and the band but mostly about Harry. This time though, he stayed stuck in his own head. Over-analyzing every detail of their interaction tonight.

Zayn must catch on that Louis isn’t in a talkative mood because he suggests a movie and pizza. He agrees, more than grateful to have a friend like Zayn to go through this with. Since freshman year of college, the two of them have lived together and shared a space. They had gotten close quick. Soon learning the quirks of each other's personalities. Figuring out how to interact even at their lowest points. He had moved to LA with no one, so he had clung to him like a lifeline during the roughest times and Zayn did the same. In a lot of ways, they were brothers. Louis does technically have a brother, but Ernest is a toddler who he sees 3 times a year at most. He never even lived with the youngest twins while he’s lived with Zayn for 6 years. Almost as long as Ernest has been alive. They had little fights about dumb things, sure, but they loved each other in a way that he could only describe as brotherly.

Their friendship is the one that Louis cherishes most. He knows that without Zayn he would probably be lost by now, especially when it comes to his career. They were each other’s rocks. Their motivators to keep going and push themselves through the shit jobs was each other. He’s seen the focus that he has on set and knows that Zayn will make it far, likely farther than Louis. His vision and eye is one that can’t be taught, it’s pure talent. It’s one that even some seasoned directors don’t have. Louis’ more than lucky to know someone like him, let alone be his best friend. He can’t even imagine his life without Zayn in it. Their lives so intertwined that it would be easier to untangle wired headphones than cut him out of it. He doesn’t know where he would be without Zayn, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to find out. He certainly wouldn’t be here and he wouldn’t have found the bar or Haley or Niall or Liam. But most importantly, he wouldn’t have found Harry.

Harry, who's been in his life for a week, but it feels as though he’s been in it for a lifetime. That’s got to be worth something right?

The doorbell rings, the pizza already here. Zayn moves to get up but Louis stops him, grabbing his wallet and going to the door. The scent is wafting from the box and it feels like he can’t take his card out fast enough. He thanks the guy, grabbing it and taking it back to the sofa. Setting it down, he rushes to the kitchen to grab a couple beers for them. He can’t wait to dig into the pizza, the cheese stringing as he pulls out a slice. He can see the grease pooling in the crevices, dripping onto his joggers and leaving a tiny stain. Louis can’t even find it in him to care because he’s so hungry. It dawns on him that they’d left straight from location to the bar. They hadn’t eaten since the small and very rushed lunch they’d taken on set.

The movie is still droning on, Zayn had chosen a documentary of all things (“Because I’m a man of culture, Louis”) and he hadn’t paid it much attention. He finally tunes in. He’s beyond confused but just keeps eating at the delicious pizza in front of him.

“So… Harry?” Zayn questions. It’s open-ended, a deliberate move on his part. He knows that if he asks Louis something specific that Louis will deflect. He's a master at that. And Zayn will get no real information out of him. He knows him too well.

Louis sighs. “I know.”

“Just be careful, okay?” His voice soft and filled with hesitation.

“I like him, Z. I really fucking do. But,” He tries to decide on the best way to phrase what to say next, “But I can’t. You know that.”

He nods. “I know.” It’s clear he wants to say more but knows better than to do so. He leaves it at that, letting the credits roll and grabbing the pizza box. “Night, Lou,” He says.

“Night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> temporary fix is that bitch.


	3. Fallingforyou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asshole director. Party. Breakfast. Accidental date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from the 1975 song hehe. 
> 
> big thanks again to my person. sydney babe ur the bestest for reading this for me.

The sun is barely up by the time Louis is. They’ve got an early shoot on location today that he is absolutely dreading. He and Zayn spent the rest of the weekend resting up and enjoying being able to do nothing. He stumbles into Zayn’s room, eyelids still half-closed and voice raspy, with the goal of waking him up. If he didn’t, he’s sure he would stay asleep until quarter to one.

“Z, wake up man.” 

His eyes still closed shut, he goes to grab a pillow. “No.” 

“We have to work. C’mon,” He says, his voice sterner. 

“No. I quit. I don’t wanna go back.” He’s swatting at Louis with the pillow, but missing every time. 

He sighs inwardly, “I will call your mother if you’re not out of this bed in three, two-” He can’t even get to three before Zayn’s upper half is raising from out of the blankets and he’s rushing out an “I’m up! I’m up!” 

He glares at him the whole time they’re brushing their teeth and doesn’t stop until Louis hands him a mug of coffee, made just the way he likes. They’ve got 40 minutes till they’re meant to be on set and the train ride alone takes 30 so he’s rushing around the apartment. Pulling on his jeans and hopping into the living room to find his work shoes, he spots Zayn all dressed and ready to leave with an eyebrow raised at him. He makes a face and sticks his tongue out as he buttons his jeans. 

By the time they manage to get to set, the director looks frazzled. He’s rushing around with his hair sticking up in all directions like he’s been pulling at it. His turtleneck is a cream color, a nice change from the Steve Jobs-esque ones he had been wearing before. The collar is already sporting a jelly stain, likely from the donuts out on the table. He spots Louis and Zayn the second they walk in and he waddles over with a finger pointed at them. His voice is frantic as he barks out orders and it takes everything he has not to roll his eyes. But he follows them and goes to get set up. Zayn does the same, heading in the opposite direction.

He spots the lead actress sitting in her chair, tapping on her phone while the makeup artist drags the fluffy brush across her face. His sister Lottie had tried to work on the film as a makeup artist. She never ended up hearing back, so he’s been ice cold to the woman with no real reason besides being a good big brother. He and Lottie had worked on the same sets a few times, but his favorite was when they both got hired for a music video. They hadn’t realized until the first day when they ran into each other and it ended up being one of his best days at work yet. 

The day drags on, their lunch is rushed like usual and his feet hurt by the time they wrap for the day. They grab dinner at a place on the way to the subway station. Zayn’s seated across from him and talked animatedly, “Okay, so I’m all set up, right? Ready to go when suddenly Turtleneck just starts shouting ‘No! No! NO!’ and I’m like so confused because everything was in place, just as he had said he wanted and he’s just screaming. So he just,” He brushes his palm against the other one, “ _bolts_ and all of us are looking at each other like 'WTF?' y'know? So, he comes back 5 minutes later and proceeds to act like nothing happened.” 

Louis barks out a loud laugh. “Fuck, what is this dude _on_?” 

“No fucking clue. But fuck man, if that isn’t the weirdest shit to happen to me ever.” 

By the time they’ve paid and gotten their leftovers wrapped up, he’s ready to lay on their couch and never get back up. They flip on a sit-com and have a couple of beers when Zayn’s phone chimes on the coffee table. The display is lit up with a text from Haley and he vaguely wonders when they exchanged numbers. Louis reaches for it and reads the text aloud, “Yo, H and the boys are throwing a party. You and Lou down?” He raises an eyebrow at him. 

Zayn grabs his phone. “What should I tell her?” 

“Tell her we’re on our way, just send the address.” 

He watches as he taps out the response. “You sure?” He asks, his finger hovering over the send button. 

“Yeah man, we need it after today.” They laugh as he presses send. 

He flips off the TV and heads back to his room to figure out what to wear. It hits him then that this is the first time that he and Harry are going to be hanging out for more than their usual 20 minute conversation after the show. The pressure is suddenly on and he grabs at every pair of jeans in his suitcase. The black ones without the rips are too low, the black ones with the rips are too tight and the dark blue ones have too many rips. He decides that too tight will just have to work. They cling to his legs as if they were painted on. That _definitely_ works. He finds a maroon shirt towards the bottom of his bag that hangs low, exposing his collarbones. Zayn whistles at him when he comes out of his bedroom and he rolls his eyes, grabbing his jean jacket and debating throwing his vans at him. He doesn’t because he’s the bigger person, thank you, and scrolls through Twitter while waiting. 

Zayn’s pulled the address up on Google Maps, eyes concentrating on his phone as they walk towards what is (hopefully) the location of this party. He’s glancing up at the buildings they pass and taking it all in. It’s not cold by any means, but the chill of the air is turning his cheeks a faint pink. He’s grateful for his jean jacket, the thick denim keeping him warm during the walk there. They’re joking around as they walk, recalling stories from their college days. Zayn’s animated as he describes a particularly crazy frat party they attended in their junior year when he stops suddenly in front of a large brick building. “Oh, this is it.” 

He looks back to his phone for confirmation and nods, mostly to himself. The railing is rusty and peeling, clearly old, so Louis steers clear of it and puts his hands into his pockets. They hit the buzzer next to last name “Styles” and are let in moments later. The inside of the building has beige colored hallways, with peeling paint similar to the rails and radiators as old as him. The stairwell seems like they safer alternative, not really fancying the idea of being trapped in an elevator. Harry’s apartment is on the third floor, so the walk up isn’t too bad. The stairs are solid, despite their run-down appearance. They walk down the corridor, stopping at 306. He can hear muffled music through the door, and the song becomes clear once he turns the doorknob and opens it. There’s a decent amount of people. Not so many it looks crowded and uncomfortable, but not so little to feel awkward. He spots Haley by a plastic table covered with drinks, a red solo cup in her hand, talking with Niall. 

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Louis asks, draping an arm around her shoulders. 

She shrugs him off. “Ugh, get off me. Nothing’s going on. Get a drink and catch up losers, you’re behind.” 

Zayn grabs two cups from the top of the stack and hands him one. “Alright, alright. We will.” 

“You guys didn’t have an overnight?” Niall asks. 

“Nah, we had a shoot at the ass crack of dawn instead.” 

“Sounds like a great way to start the day,” Haley says, her words dripping with sarcasm. 

He sips at his drink. “Definitely.” 

Louis ends up tuning out, letting the other three talk. He’s more intent on looking for the host of this party but hasn’t seen him yet. Ready to give up and participate in the conversation, he spots a head of curls coming towards him. His smile is big and bright as he comes over with Liam in tow. He’s dressed more casual than he normally is at the bar. His t-shirt is made of soft-looking cotton and his jeans are dark denim. He doesn’t have any rings on, but his index fingernail has chipping red polish on it. 

Harry drapes an arm around him, similar to what he had done to Haley. “You guys made it, hey.” 

“Hey yourself, Popstar.” Louis looks around, “Nice place.” 

“Thanks, yeah, just got it a few months ago.” He looks around. “Hey, Zayn. ‘Sup man?” 

He studies the arm that Harry has around him with an odd look. “Good, yeah. What’s the occasion?” 

“Just felt like throwing a party if I’m honest,” He laughs.

“Good enough for me.” He looks between them again, carefully like he’s considering his words. “‘M gonna go mingle. Later, Lou.” He nods awkwardly. “Harry.” 

His arm slips off and his hand comes to rest on the shoulder closest to him. “It’s really nice to see you again. I mean it,” He says. 

Louis’ face is warm, his gaze falling to Harry’s pink lips. “Yeah, ‘course.” 

“You want a grand tour? The place isn’t really much but… still,” He gestures around. 

He nods. “Sounds great. Show me around.” 

“Cool, yeah, okay. So, this is obviously the living room and kitchen.” He waves his hand toward the open window, “Out there is the balcony. We can go out there later, if you like.” He turns Louis around. “The bedrooms are this way.” 

He can’t form any words so he just nods, clearing his throat. “Roommates?” 

“Nope. Just me. Can be as loud as I want, it’s great.” He must realize the innuendo he’s just made because his face is a furious red as he stammers. “I don’t mean... I just mean like playing, y’know, like… Not. Yeah. Okay, just stop talking now Harry.” 

Louis laughs, hoping to relieve the tension. “I got what you meant, Popstar.” 

“Cool. Cool.” He keeps walking and opens up a door. “This is my bedroom, nothing special.” 

The room has a framed poster hanging on the wall. It must have been the bar’s flyer to promote them playing there, judging by the bar’s name and the band name both being in a giant font. He thinks it’s cute how Harry has it on his bedroom wall, he feels like it says something about him. Louis believes firmly that you can tell a lot from a person by what their bedroom looks like. There are fairy lights spanning the room, situated where the ceiling meets the wall. They’re not a bright light, instead, they’re a dim golden color that reminds him of the stage lighting. There’s a desk in the corner, with a laptop in the center and a pencil cup filled with pens. His bed is made with a beat-up journal sitting in the middle. His guitar is in the corner, along with a keyboard and a stool. The room looks cozy, not as neat and tidy as a hotel room you’ve just checked into but not as messy as Louis’ own room. He sits down on the bed, smoothing out the duvet. “It’s nice.” 

Harry’s standing, leaned against the doorframe. “I think so.” 

He looks up and notices the door is closed. “I like it here.” 

“My apartment?” 

“New York,” Louis clarifies. “I like it in your apartment, too.” 

“I grew up here, don’t have anything to really compare it to.” He walks over and sits on the bed.

He looks out the window to his right instead of left where Harry is. “I’m from St. Louis, moved to LA when I was 18 and never looked back.” 

“Louis from St. Louis.” 

He smacks his arm. “Do _not_.” 

His laugh carries through the room. It feels like they’re the only two people in the world. He knows they’re not. There are people right outside the door and probably under him and over him and on the street below the window he’s still looking out of, but Harry makes them disappear. They haven’t spoken or moved from their respective spots. The air feels heavy, laden with tension. It’s clear to him that his feelings aren’t unrequited. He pushes the thought down, looking to Harry. His face is unreadable. He meets his eyes, which are dark and full of want. The smile he gives doesn’t reach his eyes, it’s half-hearted and a desperate attempt to stop whatever this is before it gets the best of both of them. 

Louis stands up then, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Finish the tour, then?” 

He snaps out of it, puts on his best fake smile, and nods. “Yeah, yeah, uh, next is the guestroom.” 

They leave and he catches Zayn’s eye and silently warns him to stop thinking whatever it is he’s thinking in that head of his. “Here it is, in all it’s empty glory.” 

“It could be a good studio. Get some of those foam things, a good mic, something to mix and master everything. Could be real cool.” 

Harry closes the door again. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They rejoin their friends who are gathered together in a circle, he slides in next to Zayn and feels a hand settle on his waist. Niall’s telling them about his time as a floor worker at Target with Haley under his arm. Liam and Zayn are highly entertained it seems, laughing loudly at his story, making occasional comments. He must finally notice that Louis and Harry have joined the circle because he finishes his story. “Styles! Where were you, mate?” 

“Giving Lou the tour of the place. Doesn’t seem like you missed us much.” His hand squeezes at his waist, sending a shiver up his spinal cord. 

“Oh, I’m sure you showed him a good time,” Liam jabs. 

The rest of them can barely hide their giggles. “Oi, shut up, Payno. Where’s Sophia? I like her more than you.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Couldn’t come. Her shoot ran long and she was exhausted. I’m probably gonna leave early actually.” 

“Shoot? You’re dating a _model_?” Zayn asks. 

“Yup, how our little Payne here managed that I will never know,” Niall teases. 

They go back to talking while Louis leans into Harry’s touch. The warmth from his hand radiating through his t-shirt. He’s resting against him, his eyelids heavy and feet tired. Harry leans down to whisper in his ear. “‘M having a really good time tonight. Glad you’re here.” 

He turns his head to look at him. “Me too.” 

Liam ends up heading out, giving them all a goodbye and planting a wet kiss on Niall’s cheek. Most people have left at this point, it’s just down to the five of them. They move to sit at the couch and Harry offers to order some food. He moves to get up, a hard task when Louis is planted in his lap, but he gets the hint and lets him off the couch. He follows him out to the balcony and looks out to the streets below. The people walking on the street look tiny from up this far and he giggles at it. He moves to sit on the table, watching as he orders on the phone. Louis is making faces at him and he keeps trying to ignore it, laughs escaping every once and a while. They come back in once he’s finished and settle back into their spots. “Should be here soon.” 

Haley taps his thigh. “You good?” 

“Yeah, all good.” 

She leans back. “Too bad you guys have to go back to Cali. Gonna miss you both.” 

He smiles and looks over at Harry before meeting her eyes again. “Me too.” 

There’s a buzz alerting them that food is here and Niall rushes to the door. Louis feels a tap at his bum from Harry and they head over. The three of them carry it all over, passing stuff out while Harry grabs napkins and plates. They sit on the floor around the table, happily accepting plates and silverware, digging into the food in front of them. Zayn’s got a piece of chicken on the end of a chopstick extended toward Louis who bites at it. “I’m getting jealous over here,” Harry says, sitting down next to Louis. 

He pats his leg. “Here, try some.” Extending a piece of his own chicken to him. 

He moans as he takes a bite. “Fucking amazing, wow.” 

“I know right.” 

They slip into easy conversation as they eat, laughing and passing around the rice containers. It feels like they’ve done this before, all of them fitting in well together. Niall gets up first, wishing them farewell and Haley isn’t far behind him. Harry keeps yawning, despite reassuring them they’re good to stay as long as they like. He can only smile at his attempts. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Give me your number, Lou,” He’s patting his pockets for his phone and lets out an “ah ha!” when he finally finds it. “Please?” 

“Fine, okay. Gimme that.” He types it in. “There.” 

Harry smiles down at it. “Thanks. Night. I’ll text you.” 

“I would hope so, Popstar. Night.” 

He and Zayn stumble out around 1 am. He’s giggly and skipping down the streets of New York like an idiot with his best mate, he’s got every reason to be happy. He had a great night with great people. It might be a Monday and he might have to be up way earlier than he would like tomorrow but right now, at this moment, it couldn’t be more perfect. 

That is until it hits him that they have no clue how to get back home and both of their phones are dead. They’re trying to figure out which way they came and what buildings look familiar but they all look the same, especially to drunk Louis. So they’re lost and wandering down streets, hoping for a miracle. They must make a giant circle because he finds himself back in front of Harry’s building. He glances up at it, debating his next move. 

While he could buzz and try to go back up, he figures that he could also try to get back home one more time before bothering Harry. Zayn agrees with the latter and they head off. They’re making smarter decisions on where to turn and _finally,_ he spots a sign that’s familiar. They high-five, proud of themselves, and keep going. Louis sees their building and tugs at Zayn’s sleeve. They made it like proper New Yorkers. 

He falls into his bed, jeans on, and he’s out like a light. 

Hours later, there’s sunlight filtering in through his blinds. The mess in his room from last night is now visible. He’s hungover, no point in even trying to deny that. His head is pounding like a jackhammer. A part of him wishes the sun would die already. He’d take all the horrible after-effects of something like that if it meant 5 more minutes of sleep or just plain darkness. 

There’s a knock at his door and Zayn’s coming in, a glass of water in one hand and bottle of ibuprofen in the other. He accepts both gratefully and moves over so he can lay in bed with him. Louis grabs his laptop from the end table and signs in quickly to Netflix. They search through the different titles, finally clicking on Parks and Rec. It’s at a low volume, unlike Zayn’s voice apparently. “You should give Harry a chance.” 

“Zayn…” 

He interrupts. “No. Look, I get it. I do. You know that, but I also know that he could be good for you.” 

He scrubs a hand down his face. “We’re only here a few more weeks. I couldn’t. Can’t. I know, fucking believe me, I _know_ he’s perfect. I just don’t want to start something I can’t finish.” 

“Why don’t we just stay out here?” He must notice the expression on his face and continues. “No, really, we could. There’s tons of opportunity out here. We could get into writing, too. I’m serious, Lou.” 

“I think you’re getting too attached.” 

He’s moving to get out of bed when he feels a hand on his arm. “Just think about it.” 

Louis sighs. “Fine. No promises.” 

Zayn must have really lost his mind. He knows that they can’t stay here. They can’t. As much as they may want to, Los Angeles is where the film industry is. He has a film degree for a reason. He may not be using it the way he wants to right now, but he’s not going to get there sitting on his ass in New York. Harry and his new friends are great, they are, but they won’t pay his bills. 

But, Harry. 

Louis has long since accepted his feelings towards him. He did, however, decide to do the adult thing and not act on them. It’s not fair to him, nor is it fair Harry, to start something with him just to move back in a few weeks. Will he always wonder about what may have come of them? Sure. But he would rather not know what it’s like to have him than go through the heartbreak of losing him. _Anticipation of Loss,_ the little voice in his head repeats. 

He’s dragged from his own head by a chime from his phone. It’s a text from an unknown number. 

**Unknown (10:04):** _hey._

He racks his brain trying to figure out who he gave his number to when a second notification pops up. 

**Unknown (10:04):** _it’s harry btw._

Well, that answers that. He changes the contact and texts him back. 

**Louis Tomlinson (10:07):** _Hey. What’s up?_

 **Harry Styles (10:08):** _nmu?_

He glances around his kitchen and spots a frying pan hanging. He opens the fridge and sees eggs. Reading the expiration date, he sets them down and sends another text. 

**Louis Tomlinson (10:11):** _About to scramble some eggs. U?_

Zayn sits down at the little table in the kitchen and starts to tap at his own phone. He looks up and raises an eyebrow. “Breakfast?” 

“Yeah, eggs sound good?” 

He nods. “Oh, you want me to run and grab bacon and english muffins from the store? On my way out to grab a pack of cigs anyways, might as well.” 

Louis opens his mouth to answer when his phone buzzes. “Who’s that?” 

“Harry.” 

“Oh?” He asks. 

It chimes again. 

He picks up his phone. “He got my number last night. Wipe that look off your face.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah, not with your mouth but your eyes? Full of accusations. I don’t appreciate it.” He moves to ruffle his already messy hair. “Go get bacon already, dickhead.” 

“Fine. Alright.” 

He sits down and watches Zayn get ready to leave. He’s got one shoe on when he comes back to the kitchen. “You need anything?” 

“Nah, mate. I’m set. Go.” 

He nods. “Cool. Be back in 20.” 

Louis shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. He finally reads Harry’s texts. 

**Harry Styles (10:14):** _cleaning up the mess from my awesome party last night._

 **Harry Styles (10:15):** _trying to also sneak in a writing session w/ liam. r u coming on friday?_

Is he coming on Friday… is he serious? 

**Louis Tomlinson (10:24):** _Of course I am. Cleaning going okay?_

 **Louis Tomlinson (10:25):** _Wait. You don’t have a day job?_

The next message rolls in a few moments later. 

**Harry Styles (10:26):** _cleanings going swimmingly thank u. and nah._

Nah. He really just said that. The dork. 

**Louis Tomlinson (10:26):** _U wanna grab lunch today?_

The door creaks and he hears a voice, “Honey, I’m home.” 

“Hey, got everything?” 

He sets the bags down. “Yeah, mate. All set. Need help cooking?” 

“Could you grab the toaster? Other than that, I’m good.” 

Zayn nods. “Where is it?” 

“That cabinet above the microwave,” He gestures.

“Ah so in other words, you can’t reach it because you’re short, and you need your big tall friend to get it for you?” Zayn teases. 

He runs his fingers under the tap and flicks water at him. “I’m 5’9, you ass.” 

“You are _not._ ” He wipes at the droplets on his face. 

Louis turns on the back burner on the stove. “Am too.” 

“Are not.” 

“Yes, I am,” He argues. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

He’s sure they could keep going like this forever but the sound of his phone catches his attention. The butter in the pan is still melting as he whisks the eggs in a bowl. He strains his neck trying to read the message but gives up. He pours them into the pan, turning the heat down. His phone is still on the table so he turns completely and grabs it. 

**Harry Styles (10:34):** _sure. you want me to pick the place?_

Zayn is studying him from his seat. He sticks his tongue out like the mature adult he is. Louis puts his attention back on his phone.

 **Louis Tomlinson (10:38):** _Would be for the best. 12:30 sound alright to you?_

“Hey, Z. I’m going for lunch with Harry today so you got the place to yourself later.” 

“Cool,” He looks up from his phone. “Wait, lunch with Harry?” 

His phone dings again. “Yeah.” 

**Harry Styles (10:40):** _meet at my place. we can go together. can’t wait! x._

 **Louis Tomlinson (10:41):** _See you then!_

“What about it?” He questions. 

Zayn shrugs. “Nothing mate. We still going on Friday?” 

Louis sets his phone down. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“Just wondering.” He looks past him towards the stove. “Go check on the eggs, loverboy.” 

He rolls his eyes but does it anyway. He hears the chair drag on the hardwood and Zayn is up and taking out the plates. He’s splitting the english muffins while Louis pokes at the eggs with the spatula. He turns the heat down again. They’re moving around the kitchen comfortably, the smell of bacon filling the small flat as it cooks in the oven. The small bluetooth speaker atop their fridge letting the Arctic Monkeys song Louis put on blast loudly. The two of them are singing along, dancing like they’re performing for a crowd and laughing as they do it. Zayn even spins him at some point, dipping him down with a butterknife grasped between his teeth like a rose but more dangerous. 

The oven beeps at them loudly and he opens it, taking the tray out and setting it on the stovetop. Zayn grabs one of the plates and shovels some eggs on it, taking a piece of bacon and handing Louis a plate of his own. He does the same while Zayn butters an english muffin for him. They sit at the table, plates full of food, a Catfish and the Bottlemen song on instead and an easy conversation between them. It’s easy to forget about everything going on in moments like these. Life seems simple. Problems are forgotten. It’s easy. 

But life isn’t simple. He still has problems. And it’s anything but easy. 

He takes Zayn’s empty plate along with his to the trash and grabs a glass. “Orange juice?” 

“Nah, I’m gonna head to my room. Enjoy my day off.” 

He closes the cabinet and heads over to the fridge. “Alright. What are you thinking about dinner tonight? In or out?” 

“There aren’t In and Outs on the east coast.” Zayn chides. 

Louis laughs, harder than he should. “No, you _idiot_. Do you wanna cook and stay in or get takeout? Not ‘do you want In and Out?’ Jesus.” 

He snorts out a laugh of his own. “Nah we can cook tonight. We’ve got pasta, might have chicken and I know we have alfredo sauce. That sound good?” 

“Yeah, sounds great. I’ll see you later.” 

“See ya.” He shuts the door behind him. 

His music is still on as he picks up the mess they made of the kitchen. He’s flitting around and starts scrubbing at the pan. Louis always cleans when he’s got something on his mind, a habit he picked up when he was younger. His mom appreciated that. Not only did she get a clean house but she also knew when something was bothering him. So it’s not a surprise that after this morning’s conversation with Zayn that he’s cleaning. There’s a window above the sink, it’s a small one but big enough to look out of and think. The pan’s been clean for a while but he’s still got it under the steady stream of the tap, a sudsy sponge in his hands making circles around the inside of it. Maybe Zayn had been right. He would never tell the guy but he usually was. He was unusually perceptive, able to pick up on the faintest of signals. It was something Louis usually appreciated but right now, it only complicated things further. He shuts the water off and dries off his hands, checking the time. It’s quarter to twelve now, giving him enough time to get ready and head over to Harry’s. 

There are clothes all over his floor from his Harry-induced panic over what to wear last night. He had been too tired to even attempt to pick it up, still is if he’s honest. His dark blue jeans are sitting on top of his suitcase and he unzips it and finds a white graphic tee that hugs his arms nicely. It’s noon now, so he puts on his sneakers and picks up his jean jacket from the floor. 

The walk to Harry’s is pleasant, the streets not too crowded. He hits the buzzer and waits. Pulling out his phone, he scrolls through his Instagram feed. The outside door swings open and Harry comes out. His hair is up in a bun, his cheekbones on full display. He’s dressed similarly to Louis with a pullover hoodie on instead of a jacket. It looks soft. His whole look is casual. The more he sees him in casual clothing, the more it grows on him. “Hey. You get here alright?” 

“Hi, yourself. The walk over was nice honestly.” He loops his arm around Harry’s. “Needed to get out on the apartment anyways. Where we going?” 

Harry smiles, dimple peaking out. “It’s a surprise. Just gotta trust me.” 

“Fine. But if this place sucks I’m putting full blame on you,” He says. 

Their pace is easy as they walk, the same as the conversation. It’s their first time making plans to see each other by themselves but there’s no awkwardness whatsoever. The two of them get on like a house fire. It’s like he’s known Harry for forever and not two weeks. He enjoys just being around Harry, even if they’re not talking or doing anything particularly fun. 

Harry stops in front of a sandwich shop. “Here we are.” 

“This place?” Louis questions. 

“Best sandwiches in NYC,” He boasts, opening the door. 

He walks in, Harry letting the door close behind him. The place smells amazing. Its walls are a crisp white tile for half of it, but a navy for the top half. Most every inch of that blue is covered in newspaper articles and photographs. He studies them, he gathers that the newspapers are all rave reviews and the photographs are the owners and their kids. The small shop is busy, the line almost to the door. There are people at almost every table enjoying their meal. They wait in the queue together, Harry’s hand coming to rest in his. Which… should not have the effect it does. When it’s finally their turn to order, he lets Harry order everything but decides to pay. Harry does his best to try and stop him but gives up when he realizes how stubborn Louis can be when he wants to. 

They find an open table and settle in with sodas while they wait for their order to be up. Harry’s ankle keeps linking around his and his smile suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing. “So, how did you and Zayn get to be friends?” 

“We were dormmates during our freshman year of college. Haven’t been able to shake him since,” Louis answers. “What about you, Niall and Liam?” 

“Went to school together. Liam’s a year older actually. But grade level didn’t matter for band, so. Me and Niall were already best mates and Liam fit right in. God, middle school was a weird time though,” He says with a fond laugh. 

He reciprocates the laugh. “It was for everyone. Nobody was immune.” 

“Not even you?” Harry’s tone flirty. 

Louis smirks, picking up his cup. “Not even me.” 

Laughing to themselves in their little corner on the shop, they hear Harry’s name. He thanks the guy, grabbing the tray of food and coming back to the table. “You ready to have the best sandwich of your entire life?” 

“Woah, Styles. Don’t make claims so big just yet. You haven’t had Jay Tommo’s PB&J.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Just take a bite.” 

Louis does as told and has to hold back a moan the second he tastes the sandwich. He might have to hand it to him, this is probably the best thing he’s ever had in his mouth. “Fuck. You were right, you were so right. This is amazing.” 

Harry’s got his own sandwich in his hands, already having eaten some. “I told you.” 

“I will never doubt you again. Fuck. Might just move here for this alone.” 

He sees him tense. “Are you?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

His lips are pressed together tightly. “I remember when I got laid off from teaching. It sucked… a lot. For a while honestly. It all worked out though. It gave me the push I needed to go full-time with the music thing. I was able to write more and practice more. Got the gig at the bar. I don’t know, my point is, it worked out alright in the end I guess.” 

“You were a teacher?” 

“Is that all you got from that?” Harry chuckles. “I was a teacher, yeah. First grade, actually. It was great. I’d always wanted to work with kids and for the first couple years it was the best. Can’t wait to have kids of my own someday.” 

His breath hitches in his throat. “Oh, uh, yeah?” 

“Yeah. Always wanted a big family. Lots of pets too. I don’t know. It was just me and my sister growing up. My mom worked most of the time and she only met Robin a few years ago. So, yeah.” 

“Trust me, I’ve got more sisters than I know what to do with and it’s not as fun as it sounds.” 

He crumples up his sandwich wrapper. “You do? How many?” 

“Well, let’s see. There’s Lottie, she’s the oldest of them. Fizzy, who looks so much like my mom it freaks me out. The first set of twins, Daisy and Phoebe.” Harry’s eyes are wide and staring at him in disbelief. 

“The first set?” He asks. 

Louis laughs. “Then there’s the second set, Ernest and Doris. They’re only toddlers, though.” 

“Wow, your poor mom.” 

“They’re all my half-siblings though, got a different dad than all of them.” 

Harry sips at his soda. “I’ve got a stepbrother now. Never really bonded with him, though. He’s like twelve and is such an asshole. Not that I’d ever tell my mom that.” 

“My mom did a good job with us lot. Lottie’s a makeup artist so I’ve got her out with me. We’ve gotten much closer over the last couple years, for sure. Her and Fizzy stayed with me for a month during the summer when they were in middle school and it was _hell_.” 

“Oh my God. Louis, no.” 

His whole body is shaking with laughter. “No, seriously. I had two little tween girls with me who did not stop talking from the moment I picked them up from the airport to the second I dropped them off there. And that’s not even the worst part.” 

“How could this get any worse?” 

“Lottie got her first period. Freaked me and her both out. Had to call my mom at like midnight only for her to scold me for not paying more attention in health class.” 

There are definitely people staring now. Harry’s laugh is loud and uncontrollable at this point, as is Louis’. “You have _how_ many sisters and you weren’t educated on periods? I have one and I always keep a box of tampons just in case.” 

“Well, now I do. In my defense, I was gay and in college.” 

“No, just… no.” Harry shakes his head. “We should get going. I was thinking about going shopping. You want to come with?” 

“I should really get back. Another time?” 

He nods. “Yeah, ‘course. Let’s go.” 

Their walk back is filled with just as much laughter as their lunch. They’re trading stories about their sisters and childhoods and he doesn’t think he ever wants this to end. 

Harry stops at his building, his lanyard dangling his bright pink apartment key. “This is probably the best date I’ve ever been on.” 

Louis stops. Was this a date? “Y-yeah. Same.” 

“Should be in a hall of fame.” He says, walking up his steps. 

“It definitely should, Popstar. See you on Friday.” 

“Friday. Yeah.” He waves as he opens the big metal door. “Bye.” 

The door closing is what it takes for everything to come crashing down on him. He went on a date with Harry. But most importantly, he broke his promise. He’s fallen for Harry Styles. 

Oh fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did this take me a very long time to write, edit and then re-edit and finally post? yes. am i super proud of it? also yes.


	4. I Wanna Write You A Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One that's beautiful as you are sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sydney girl. u already know. 
> 
> i also made a playlist for this fic!

[here it is](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2NWpyDFN6rpkfWNE8bD2Wh?si=1AKTsgrjR3-xbjGrI4nkqQ)

* * *

Louis is acutely aware that he’s been staring at this wall for the past 10 minutes. As soon as he came home, he had gone to his room. He had sat down and just never had the energy to do anything else. He likes Harry. Okay, cool. Cool. Definitely. Now, if he could not freak out that would be great. Eventually, he finds it in him to get up and go about the rest of his day but it’s not easy in the slightest. But there's dinner to make and surfaces to clean. As much as he may want to, he can't curl up into the fetal position just yet.

He raises from his bed, scrubbing a hand down his face. His room is less of a mess than it had been the previous night, but barely. Louis picks up the clothes, tossing them into the hamper in the corner. He figures his best bet right now is to focus on anything but Harry. Distract himself with cooking and cleaning like the proper housewife he is. 

Zayn teases him once he sits down at the table for dinner. “So… Tell me loverboy, how was it?” 

So much for not thinking about it.

“How was what?” he asks, somewhat joking. 

His face is unimpressed. “The date.” 

Louis picks at his food, twirling his fettucini. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” he shrugs so Zayn continues, “Are you gonna give me any details?” 

“We went for lunch. Nothing special.” 

Zayn picks up his glass of water, eyes narrowed. “Where did you go? 

“Sandwich shop.” 

“What did you guys talk about?” he takes a slow sip, studying Louis intimidatingly. 

“Lots of stuff. Our families, past careers, you, periods.” 

“Periods?” Zayn asks, eyebrow quirked. 

“Told the story about when Lottie and Fiz came to visit.” 

“Ah,” he laughs, “Always thought that was more of a third date story.” 

“Well, there probably won’t be a third date. So…” his tone nonchalant, bordering on joking. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, smile fond. “Sure, loverboy.” 

Their sort-of-date thing had gone well. So well. The food was amazing. He had made a mental note to bring Zayn there later in the week. Louis was only half-joking when he had said he'd moved here just for that place. Whatever they're putting in those things, they should keep doing it. Everything about their time together was effortless. They had bantered and joked around but had talked about their families and real shit. The shit that actually matters when it comes to deciding if you want to be with someone or not. 

Does he want to be with Harry? 

The truth is he doesn’t know. What he does know is that he needs a drink. Stat. 

Another week of work had practically blown by. Turtleneck was even starting to be less… Turtleneck than usual. But he couldn’t even enjoy it because of the emotional turmoil his brain was in the whole time. He was solely focused on The Realization. Zayn, of course, was no help. He could only laugh at him and say “I told you so” so many times the phrase lost meaning. Zayn did give him a hug and a bowl of ice cream and promised him everything would be alright eventually but Louis would keep giving him funny looks for another day or two. Teach him a lesson. Or something like that. But he does offer to buy drinks at the bar tonight, and that he will gladly say yes to. 

He has go. One, he had told Harry he would. Two, he needs a drink. And third, he’s not strong enough to risk the magnetic pull of Harry Styles. 

The bar is busy tonight, busier than usual. There are people at almost every seat in the place. Some of them he recognizes, others not so much. A girl seated by the entrance gives him a once over, ogling him like a piece of meat, and he almost gags at how obvious it is. Some people have no gaydar. They find their regular spots and wait for Haley to come around and serve them. She’s rushing from one end of the place to the next so they’re patiently waiting. The boys must be getting ready still because their instruments are on stage, but they aren’t. He’s trying to lose himself in the mostly one-sided conversation still going on between him and Zayn, to no avail. It’s hard to care about what crazy thing Turtleneck did today when he knows that Harry’s going to be on stage soon. They had the few occasional texts here and there throughout the day but Louis had been avoiding him. Not completely, but…avoiding nonetheless. It was partially because his brain was in total panic mode. The other reason was he just didn’t know what to say to him. There’s so much he could say, he just can’t say it. It’s sitting on the tip of his tongue. So close. 

Louis knows he’s a coward when it comes to feelings. He gets it from Zayn enough to know it as fact. It’s times like this that it really sinks in though. When he decides to push the feelings down and not deal with them as opposed to letting himself try. Giving himself the chance to be happy. It’s easier to not give himself the chance out of fear of potential heartbreak that he bottles it. Puts them in a glass and corks it, sending them out to sea. Let himself in 10 years find it and wonder about what could have been instead of letting present Louis get hurt.

It’s the easier route, a cop-out, and he knows it. 

He’s always been this way. It’s a habit he can’t seem to break himself of, much to the dismay of his mother who is begging for grandchildren or just a son in law. Whatever she can get. It started when he was a teenager, too young and impressionable to have his heart broken the way that it was. He had really liked this boy. Loved him, even. It was the first boy he truly let himself have feelings for. Louis had gone for it. He wrote him a letter and left it in his locker. Waiting at his own locker, he watched as the boy read the letter and smiled until he read the name signed at the bottom. The sight of his smiling falling had made him sick. Louis hadn’t come out yet, only to his mom and Lottie, but the boy told everyone. He showed just about the whole school the letter and it led him to be the butt of jokes more often than not. In his junior year, he got a boyfriend. He had threatened to beat up anyone who even looked at Louis wrong. The teasing lessened but the impact had already been made on him. 

He knows that Harry isn’t a homophobic asshole teenager who will tell the whole school, but he’s a boy that Louis has feelings for. It’s still scary. Even after all these years, all the drunken blowjobs in club bathrooms and dating app hookups, there's still a voice in his head that gives him shit for being gay. Like a homophobic asshole permanently posted up in his brain, waiting for the right time to strike. He hates that voice. Ignoring it most of the time is easy, but sometimes it gets to him. Weighs on his conscious. 

There’s a reason it’s called falling in love, not rising into love. Because it’s scary and fast and it feels like you’ve landed face-first on to the cement below. It’s not gentle and full of clouds and birds chirping. It’s painful, especially when it ends before you’re ready for it to. He knows he’s leaving soon. Better to save them both the heartbreak. Zayn can talk all he wants about staying, but they both know better. This little life they’re building here is temporary. It always has been. It always will be. Harry is temporary, even if he wishes otherwise. 

It feels as though everything he’s just said goes completely out the window the moment that Harry steps on the stage. 

The feeling that Louis gets when he walks into a room is… intense. His whole body feels hot, like the clothes he’s wearing have spontaneously combusted. The only thing his eyes are drawn to is Harry. Any attempt by him to look anywhere else is frivolous. He’s so beautiful. Captivating. It seems as though he’s unaware just how gorgeous he is. Harry is humble, almost to a fault. He doesn’t seem to believe he’s any bit above average. It’s a shame. But in other ways, Louis is almost sure he’s aware. He knows what he’s doing when he leaves his shirt open. He knows the effect that his sleeves being pushed up will have on Louis. He knows the way he grips the mic stand and dances with it can border on obscene. He has to know what he’s doing. It’s the only explanation. 

There’s a lot of unexplainable things about Harry. His existence, for one. The mere fact that he even walks the same planet as Louis is enough to puzzle him. He has flaws, nobody is denying that, but all of his flaws only endear him more. Like how clumsy he is. Harry has legs for days but he’s shit at using them. It’s not a proper set without him almost, or actually, falling. Or his atrocious puns. Seriously, he went on a spree of banana puns during the party and he’s sure everyone in the room wanted to strangle him. And he’s downright awful at dancing. He gets on the stage and moves his ridiculously long limbs like an inflatable tube man. But all of these things make Louis like him _more,_ not less.

For every flaw, he’s got about fifty amazing qualities. He might be clumsy and have no rhythm but he’s tall. His legs are strong. They aren’t massive or skinny, they’re healthy. Louis’ sure he doesn’t even work out, he’s just statue come to life. His jokes may be horrible but the way he tells them, as though they’re the funniest thing ever, makes listening to them bearable. Sometimes he’ll be laughing so hard at his own joke he can't even get through it. Harry’s like a little kid in the body of a demigod and it’s not fair. 

None of this is fair. If he had met Harry in a coffee shop or a book store or during his college years or the X-factor toilets for God’s sake, it would be a no-brainer. He would have asked Harry to marry him on the spot. But none of those are the reality he’s in. He’s stuck in the universe where he lives in Los Angeles and Harry lives in New York. And that’s life. It’s the one he has to work with and try to make the best of. 

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice when Haley comes over to them. She looks stressed, flyaways sticking up and a fake smile plastered to her face. Zayn’s giving her his kindest smile and she looks appreciative. She’s sliding a drink in front of him when he finally snaps out of it, "Looks like you need this."

“Thanks, Hale.” 

She glances up at the stage. “So, you and H? Any updates?” 

Louis sighs, time to rip the bandaid off. “I think we went on a date.” 

“ _W_ _hat?_ ” Haley's voice high pitched and scandalized. 

“We had lunch on Tuesday,” he says. 

He watches as her brain makes the connection. “I knew it! God, I fucking knew it. You like him! You like Harry!” 

He shushes her. “Keep your voice down, will you? Yes, okay. I like him.” 

Zayn is staring in disbelief, eyes wide. “You like him? Like for real?” his tone careful. 

“God, this is so middle school.” Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, I like like him.” 

Zayn starts laughing and Haley follows suit. “What? Nothing about this is funny. Like at all. I’m having a real crisis here,” the laughing only continues, “Some friends you are.” 

Rolling his eyes, Zayn smiles. “You only just realized you like him? Tommo, news flash, you’ve liked him for a while now. Glad you’re finally caught up with the rest of us.” 

“Wait. Does everyone know I like him? Does Harry?” his voice barely above a whisper. 

Haley gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You guys went on a date, do you really want the answer to that second one?” he shrugs. “Or the first one for that matter?” 

He stares as if to say “duh” with his eyes. “Okay fine. Yes. Everyone, including Harry, knows.” 

“Fuck.” 

Zayn takes a swig from his beer. “He likes you back, you know?” 

“I know, Z. That’s almost worse.” 

“Woah woah woah, how in the hell is that worse?” 

His expression falls flat. “Haley, we’re leaving in a few weeks.” 

“So?” she suggests, making him continue. 

He looks to the stage and Harry waves. He waves back, turning to Haley and Zayn again. “So, I can’t.” 

“Lou, please-” Whatever argument Zayn had is interrupted by Harry’s smooth voice. 

Every word that he says, Louis wants tattooed on his forehead. He’s able to make the most boring sentences sexy. It’s a gift. If he read audiobooks, he would make a killing. And a lot more high schoolers would actually know what the books they’re assigned in English class are about. It's deep and he talks in a slow pace, bordering on monotone half the time, but his tone draws you in. He makes every sentence sound like the most important one ever spoken aloud. 

“Hey, we’re One Direction. If you haven’t, uh, seen us before. I’m Harry, I sing and play guitar. That’s Niall, he plays guitar and also sings. Then there’s Liam, he plays drums. And sings, too. I guess.” He shakes his head awkwardly and laughs. “Here’s our first song, it’s a classic here. This is Stockholm Syndrome.” 

Louis makes a conscious effort to look anywhere but the stage. He taps away at his phone, picks at his fingernails, adjusts his shirt, messes with his beer bottle, even makes eye contact briefly with the girl from the start of the night. He does anything he can to distract himself. Harry looks amazing tonight. There’s never a night he doesn’t but now Louis is just so _aware_ of it. Every move he makes, he watches in his peripheral vision. He’s moving around the stage, gripping his microphone stand and catching the attention of everyone in the bar. Louis feels like the only one that isn’t blatantly staring now. 

He turns his head, glances for just a moment. Harry’s eyes are locked on him. Green eyes dark and full of want, the same way they had been in his bedroom days earlier. It’s as though the flood gates have opened. Louis can’t look away, even if he wanted. Once he notices Louis looking back at him, it’s as though the lyrics take on new meaning, _“I know they’ll be coming to find me soon, but my Stockholm Syndrome is in your room. Yeah, I fell for you”_ he raises his arm and starts dancing as the chorus comes in. 

He’s confident and carefree and so fucking beautiful. It’s as though he’s dancing alone and not on stage, his movements big and open. Harry practically grinds on the mic stand when he sings. It’s hot. The man is pure sex. Every move he makes while up there is for him, not anyone else. He's dancing the way he is because he wants to. He's who he is, take it or leave it. And Louis wants to take it. 

It’s as though he’s drowning and Harry is oxygen. He’s lost in the desert and he’s an oasis. He’s cold and he’s a blanket. He’s stuck in the rain and Harry’s an umbrella. He doesn’t know when it happened, but now he needs Harry. He’s become someone that Louis doesn’t want to lose. He needs Harry in a lot of ways. Needs his hands against his body, his lips against his, his mouth on him. Louis has some needs that only Harry can fill. 

The sound of someone speaking to him drags him from his thoughts. That turns out to be the least of his worries because his focus is now on the semi in jeans. “Dude? Hello?” 

“Yeah,” he coughs. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Okay, loverboy. If you say so,” Zayn says, looking over to Haley. 

She makes an amused face at him, “Look, man. All you can do now is make the best of the time you _do_ have together. Stop being so focused on the fact that you’re leaving. Live in the future.” 

He gives her a noncommittal shrug. “Guys, no. I’m not like that. Z, tell her.” 

“He’s really not,” he agrees. “But, she’s right. Come on, the way you were looking at him…” 

“What?” Louis asks, “How was I looking at him?” 

“Like he hung the fucking moon.” 

He scoffs but Zayn can only nod. “I do not!” 

They both sigh and Haley waves him off, leaving to go serve someone a drink. The silence that follows is uncomfortable, on Louis’ end at least. Zayn is fine. He’s enjoying the show and searching the venue with his eyes for a pretty girl. It’s not completely silent, the small applause signals the end of the song and his eyes snap back to the stage. 

Harry’s smiling and picking up his guitar. “This one’s new. I, uh, just wrote it. Hope you like it.” 

He notices Liam pick up a violin of all things and Niall adjusts his microphone. Harry’s looking straight at him as he starts to play his guitar, sending a private smile his way. The song is slow, not their usual sound, and he can see that Harry is visibly nervous to play this one. His voice starts off the first verse shaky, but his gaze is anything but.

“ _I_ _wanna write you a song. One that’s beautiful as you are sweet. With just a hint of pain for the feeling that I get when you are gone. I wanna write you a song.”_

His mouth is suddenly dry, jaw open. There’s no denying that the song is for him. Even if it isn’t, the way Harry is singing it, it’s enough to make anyone lose their mind. His voice gets more confident as the song goes on, his smile grows bigger, and his eyes stay on Louis. It’s a sight. His blue button-up has a shimmery pattern that hits the light just right when he sways. He’s leaning into the mic slightly, his cross necklace dangling forward. He looks angelic, the stage lighting serving as his halo. Louis wants to walk right up on the stage and kiss him. 

He’s desperate to know what Harry looks like underneath his clothes. What he looks like coming undone beneath Louis. The sounds he would make. The way his back would arch from the mattress. How he would kiss him to muffle the moans. Louis wants to pin his hands above his head. Kiss every single inch of his toned body. Memorize every freckle, every scar, every tattoo. He wants to know what he looks like when he comes. How his lips would look stretched around him. He wants to make Harry go crazy. He wants Harry to make him go crazy. Be crazy for each other. 

It’s difficult to breathe. He feels hot all over, from the tips of his ears to his chest. Louis is hopeless. He wants Harry. The way his cock is straining against his jeans is evidence enough. 

Harry keeps singing. Blissfully unaware of how much it’s affecting him. He’s having the time of his life while Louis is having a crisis. It’s difficult to think. His mind repeating Harry’s name over and over, chanting it: _Harry, Harry, Harry._ He wants him. No one but him. Only him. Harry. 

The song ends, the one Harry wrote for him, to loud applause. He smiles at him, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. There’s a dimpled smile on Harry’s face and he lets out a relieved laugh. His eyes practically sparkle as he does. He nods, a private message to Louis. 

They’ve got a few more songs to play, so Louis tries his best to stay focused on the music. It stops him from thinking so hard about Harry. Plus, they’re really good. It’s not like it’s a chore to listen to good music. They play the hits, so to speak. It’s the songs they know they can play well and that the bar patrons love to listen to. Some of the regulars even sing along and the place comes alive at the mere mention of those songs. It’s a sight to see. 

It’s moments like these that he can picture Harry in front of thousands. He’s destined to be a star. And Louis? He’s destined to be hopelessly in love with him. 

Their final song ends and Louis’ stomach drops. After the show, Harry comes over and talks with him. It’s routine for them. Not even a thought. He’s got a giant smile on his face and greets Louis with a hug. It’s warm and comforting. Being in Harry’s arms is easy. He never wants to be out of them. The hug is longer than anything friendly but he pulls back. The feeling of being wrapped up in Harry is immediately missed. “Hey, Popstar.” 

His hands stay on Louis’ shoulders. “Hey, Lou.” 

“You were…” his eyes search Harry’s face. “Amazing.” 

Harry’s laugh is light. “Thanks.” 

Louis can see how hopeful he looks, waiting for him to mention the song. “Your song was lovely.” 

“Stockholm Syndrome? Yeah, I mean-” 

Louis interrupts, placing a hand on Harry’s chest. “No, you idiot, the new one.” 

Harry looks relieved. “Oh.” 

“Did good, Popstar,” he says. 

His eyes drop to his lips and Louis can only watch, they come back up. “Y-yeah,” Harry stutters. “I’m glad you, uh, you liked it.” 

“You wrote it, of course I liked it.” 

The air between them is electric. It’s as though the two of them are in their own lightning-filled bubble. It’s hot. He rubs at the back of his rosy neck, a nervous laugh escaping. He takes his hand from Harry’s chest and looks down at his shoes. There’s dirt on his shoes. Interesting. 

Harry clears his throat and he meets his eyes. There's a complete shift in the atmosphere. It's hot and all-consuming. His whole body feels drawn to Harry's. Louis feels himself leaning in. He wants to press their lips together. It’s all he wants. He can see the golden flecks in Harry's eyes. The subtle lines caused by smiling. A small scar between his eyebrows. Louis wonders what his lips would feel like slotted between Harry's. Would he go for the bottom lip or the top? Would he be the one to try and slip his tongue in first? Would he bite at his bottom lip to drive him crazy? Would he place his hands on Louis' cheeks?

The part of his brain that actually works starts screaming when they get close enough, only a centimeter of space between them, and he pulls back quickly. 

Harry realizes and he immediately begins to plead with him, "Louis, I really-” 

He interrupts. “No, Harry. Don’t. Please.” 

He tugs at his bottom lip, his impossibly pink and full lips, “Lou, just give me-” 

“Harry. I want to. I really _really_ want to… I can’t,” he looks over at the rest of their friends who are watching, “I’m sorry. I’ve, uh- I have to go.” 

He grabs Louis by the wrist, stopping him in his place, "Louis, don't go." 

"You can't expect me-" 

"I know you have feelings for me. I know I'm not making this up," his voice is on the cusp of whining, "Tell me I'm wrong." 

Louis looks away from him. "I don't..." 

He stands taller, voice stern, "Tell me that I'm wrong," he repeats. 

He's silent for a moment, truly considering his words. "You're a wonderful person-" 

Harry holds a hand up, signaling for Louis to stop. "Go," he manages. 

The hurt is evident in his face, the smile he gives doesn't reach his eyes. He can only nod and turn back towards the door. He pushes past people and leaves the bar. The brick wall exterior is cold, even through his denim jacket. The sounds of the city surround him. He can hear people talking and car horns. The city that never sleeps and all that. Zayn comes out a moment later. He wraps his arms around Louis and doesn't let go. 

As tears start to seep out, Zayn simply rubs at his back. “Let’s go home, okay?” 

Words suddenly lost, he lets him lead the way home. The walk to their apartment is only 10 minutes. Not a word between them the whole time, his mind blank. He’s thankful his brain cells are asleep because he doesn’t know how much more he could handle tonight. They almost kissed. Louis wanted to kiss him. He had already known that (he’s not that stupid) but Harry had leaned in too. He also knew that. But now he had real proof of their feelings for each other. Harry had told him such. 

It made it real. 

Louis wants to scream and cry and punch a wall. But, he doesn't. He doesn’t do anything. Hasn’t even spoken since they walked through the door. Zayn hasn’t either. He opens the door to his room and flops on to his bed, curling up with a pillow clutched to his chest. There’s a creak and Zayn’s padding into the room with a container of ice cream and two spoons. It’s mint chocolate chip, his favorite. He grabs a spoon appreciatively and rests his head on his shoulder once Zayn climbs in bed with him. 

“Do you remember when we stole Ben’s car?” 

The spoon right in front of his mouth, Louis’ eyes get wide. “Yes. Oh, my God. How did I forget about that?” 

Zayn laughs. “It was fucking crazy. We drove up that super windy road and you just kept yelling at me to slow down.” 

“Because you were going so fast!” Louis insists. 

“I was only going like 40, max.” 

“Let’s say you’re right, it was a narrow ass road and it was nighttime and it was a stolen car.” 

Zayn gets a spoonful of ice cream. “Still got it back in the parking lot by morning, though.” 

Their laughter dies down. “Thanks. I needed that.” 

He ruffles his hair. “I know,” Zayn smiles. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not yet. Tomorrow. Maybe.” 

“Tomorrow’s fine. Whenever you’re ready,” he pulls Louis closer. “I’m here.” 

They must fall asleep because Louis wakes up, still upright and head on Zayn’s shoulder. They had finished the ice cream, judging by the empty container on his end table. Louis nudges him to wake up and he rubs at his eyes. “Morning, dickhead. How ya feeling?” 

“I don’t know yet. Ask me in a few hours.” 

He chuckles and gets up from the bed. “I’ll go get us donuts and coffee, Lou. Take a shower or something, you smell like bar.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he sniffs at his shirt. “Fine. Go get me donuts. And get more ice cream while you’re out. My pathetic ass is gonna need it.” 

“You should call him. Talk about what happened. If you want to, of course. Don’t rush it.” 

“Maybe, Z. Right now, I just want food and cuddles.” 

Zayn laughs and heads for the door. “I can do that. See you soon.” 

“See ya.” 

The door shuts behind him with a click. He sighs and scrubs his hand down his face. The events of last night are all hitting him at once. Soon followed by a supercut of his most romantic moments with Harry. The first night they met, when he brought Zayn, the party, their date, all their flirty texts, the song, their almost kiss last night. He should call him. 

His phone has a few texts. A couple from Haley, one from Liam and one from his mom. He unlocks it and opens up Haley’s first. 

**Haley (01:06):** _hey. hope ur okay?_

 **Haley (01:11):** _zayn tells me u got home okay. just text me when u wake up please?_

He smiles to himself at the message. 

**Louis Tomlinson (11:37):** _Hey. Im good. Woke up a few minutes ago. How’s Harry?_

He opens up Liam’s next. 

**Liam Payne (01:07):** _hope ur okay dude._

 **Louis Tomlinson (11:39):** _Im alright._

His mom’s is the only one left. 

**Mom (8:26):** _Call me._

That can only mean one thing and it’s not good. He presses the call icon and taps his foot as it rings. His mom’s voice comes through moments later. “ _Louis? Hi, honey.”_

“Hi, mom,” He says. He’s missed her voice. 

_“What is this Zayn tells me about you and some boy?”_

He’s officially decided to murder Zayn in his sleep tonight. “Mom, it’s nothing.” 

She sounds unconvinced. _“Didn’t sound like nothing.”_

“What did he tell you?” he asks, fearing the worst. 

_“Just that you’re being an idiot who needs his mother to talk some sense into him.”_ He rolls his eyes and is glad she can’t see him. _“I know you’re rolling your eyes.”_

“Ma, c’mon.” 

_“Boobear, it sounds like you like this guy. And he likes you, too.”_

“Mmmhm. Don’t know why.” 

_“I do,”_ her voice stern, _“You’re an amazing man. Who anyone would be lucky to have. And this Harry sounds just as wonderful. Don’t mess this up, Louis. I want grandchildren sometime.”_

“Mom…” 

_“You know I kid,"_ he can hear faint chatter and the loud footsteps of kids running. It sounds like home. 

He sighs, “He lives in New York. I don’t. Do you see the problem here?” 

_“That’s an excuse and we both know it,”_

Harsh, but correct. 

He gets his honesty from his mother. She’s blunt and tells it how it is. Normally, Louis appreciates that about her, but not this time. Zayn, that motherfucker, knew that the only one who would get through to him would be his mom. He’s a momma boy, sue him. She was his rock for years. When she says something, he listens. His mom knows how to say things that will actually resonate with him. 

_“I’ve got to get the twins up," she pauses for a moment, "I mean it, don’t screw this up for yourself. Let yourself be happy.”_

Let yourself be happy.

The phrase ricochets in his head a couple more times before he musters out a goodbye, “Bye, mom.” 

He lets himself cry once the call ends. Tears hot against his face. Sitting at the kitchen table, he puts his head in his hands. He cries his frustrations out, it’s easier than voicing them. All the pent up thoughts and feelings come rushing out the same time as his tears. The sobs are full-bodied and uncontrollable by the time Zayn walks through the door. He sets the bags down and comes over, holding him. There’s a growing wet spot on his shoulder. His hands rub at his back soothingly and he leans into his touch. It helps. 

Zayn helps him sit down and goes to grab the bags. He opens up a pink bakery box and Louis takes his pick of a donut. There’s a warm coffee in his hands. He smiles gratefully and hopes that he gets the message. Louis goes from crying to comfort eating. It also helps. His eyes are sore and puffy. Soon, he’ll be fat from all the junk food. Things are looking up... at least he still has his humor. 

He’s on his third donut when Zayn takes the box. “Let’s talk.” 

“No," he deadpans. 

“Did you call your mom?” 

His eyes narrow. “Yeah. Not cool, by the way.” 

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Get over it. How did it go?” 

“She told me I was an idiot,” Louis says. 

“Anything else?” he suggests. 

Louis swallows. “She, uh, also said I should go for it. Let myself be happy.” 

“She’s right.” 

“I know she’s right, dickhead.” 

His head falls to the cold tabletop. He bangs it again for good measure. His fingers run through his hair. He’s stressing out over a guy like it’s high school. “You need to call Harry.” 

Louis gives him a rude look. “Absolutely not.” 

“Suit yourself,” Zayn says, getting up. “Lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

“Fuck you. What do you even mean by that? You just... I-” 

“You can’t. Yeah, we fucking get it. God, you’re such a coward sometimes. Jay is right. You need to fucking let yourself be happy. Just this once,” Zayn practically shouts. 

“I’m not doing this with you right now.” His chair screeches against the floor. 

“Of course not. Push me away because you know I’m right. Ignore what your mom said because you just didn’t want to hear it,” Zayn lowers his voice. “I’m done, man. I don’t know what to say anymore.” 

Louis walks towards his door. “So don’t.” He slams it. 

Falling against his door, he starts to cry again. He doesn’t know when all of this got so complicated. All he knows is that it did. Nothing about their current situation is easy. He wishes he never walked into that stupid dive bar in the first place. That would’ve prevented everything that’s happened so far. Meeting his friends, falling in love with this city… falling in love with Harry. Because he is, in love that is.

He’s so in love with Harry. His frog-face, his dumb jokes, his clumsiness, his dimples, his tattoos, his sheer fucking shirts. 

Harry is so gorgeous that it hurts. It makes him angry. The magnetic field surrounding him is strong and Louis is decidedly not. He feels tongue-tied every time he even glances at Harry. Him being single is the worst thing that could’ve happened. If he had someone, he could’ve reasoned himself out of his feelings, but he was single and into him. Nobody would be able to resist someone that perfect. Nobody. Louis grabs his pillow from his bed and screams into it. 

Louis can’t believe he’s in this situation. In his attempt to not get hurt by his feelings by Harry, he’s done just that. He can try and tell himself he’s fine. But that would be a lie. A big fat lie. He's done lying. To himself, to Zayn, to his mom, to Harry. He's dying to be honest. And God's honest truth, he's in love with Harry and he's tired of denying himself happiness out of fear. It gets exhausting overthinking all the time. 

He wants to curl up with him in bed and watch cheesy rom-coms on Netflix. Cook breakfast with him and dance in the kitchen. Pretend he’s on stage with Harry, showing the world how in love they are. Pick out towels for the apartment they share. Stand in the candle aisle and sniff every single one. Make fun of the silly French accent he tries to do. Kiss him randomly because he wants to and he can. Tell him good news the second he gets it. Bounce screenplay ideas off him. Argue over centerpieces for the tables at their wedding reception. Choose names for their kids. Louis wants a relationship with Harry. A domestic, disgustingly adult relationship. 

It’s nice to stop fighting. To let himself imagine a future with Harry. Instead of repressing those thoughts, he’s indulging them. Allowing himself to picture them in various scenarios. The guilt comes in a different form though. He had rejected him. Louis left that night, tried to tell Harry he was wrong. He messed up big time with him. Then, to make a shitty situation even worse, he had yelled at Zayn for simply telling him what he needed to hear. Louis fucked up. Badly. 

His phone vibrates with a text from Haley. 

**Haley (12:36):** _h seemed pretty down. u should talk to him. im here for you tho._

He calls her. _“Hello?”_

“Hey, it’s Louis. Do you want to meet me? I, uh, I just need to talk to someone.” 

_“Yeah. Sure, uh, where?”_

He looks out his window. “Know any good coffee shops?” 

_“I know a few, yeah, I’ll text you an address. Meet at 1?”_

“Yeah, Hale. Thank you, seriously.” 

_“Anytime.”_ She hangs up. 

The text from her with an address comes a moment later. He’s got about twenty minutes until they’re meant to meet and the walk is only seven. He knocks on Zayn’s door and opens it. He’s got his laptop on his bed, a movie playing, with a bag of popcorn leaning on his leg. “Hey, Z.” 

“Hey," he replies, smiling softly. 

Louis returns it. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know." 

He taps at the door. “Thanks.” 

Zayn throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Don’t mention it.” 

“I’m getting coffee with Haley. I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to him, okay?” 

“I just want you to be happy, Lou. We all do.” 

He smiles. “I know.” 

Louis walks out of the room feeling better than he had when he walked in. He has to make this right. He has to. He owes to himself. 

_Let yourself be happy,_ the voice in his head says. 

He slips on his vans and sets off on his journey. It’s seven minutes spent trying to figure out the best way to fix this. The bell above the door to the coffeeshop rings, alerting everyone to his presence. His eyes search the place, finding Haley at a high top with a mug in her hands. She waves him over and smiles. “Hey, you made it.” 

“Yup, uh, what’s the recommendation for the drink?” 

“Get an americano, seems your speed.” 

He nods. “If I don’t like this, full blame is on you.” 

She shrugs and sips her drink. “So, how are you?” 

“Tired. And not just from like, lack of sleep." he answers truthfully, "I, uh, I’m tired of running. Y’know? I just- I’ve been so unhappy for so long. Maybe it’s time to let me just… be happy.”

“And Harry? He makes you happy?” Haley asks. 

He smiles. “Yeah, I think he does.” 

“Seems like you know what you want then.” 

“Which is?” Louis asks, feigning ignorance. 

She rolls her eyes. “Him. You want him.” 

Yeah. He does want him. So much it hurts. 

“I just, I don’t know how to fix this. I kind of… fucked up?” 

“I was there, yeah," she supplies, at his unamused face she goes on, "Look, Harry likes you. A lot. He’s hurt, sure, but as long as you’re sincere and tell him the truth, I think you’re good.” 

He accepts the drink the barista hands him. “You’re sure?” 

Haley rests her head on her hand. “Ugh, yes, I’m sure. God, what is it that Zayn always calls you when you’re talking about Harry?” 

“Loverboy?” He offers. 

She points at him. “Yes! Loverboy!” 

His laugh light, he sips his drink. “Oh, fuck. This is good.” 

Haley shrugs. “What can I say? I’m a real beverage wizard.” 

Louis practically spits out his drink. “You’re such a dork. Jesus, why do I hang out with you?” 

“Because I’m tons of fun. And I’m your boyfriend’s favorite person.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Not yet,” she says, "Y'know, I don't think you even realize you're doing this, but when you talk about Harry your eyes go all," she waves a hand in front of his face, "glittery." 

Louis laughs, "Glittery?" 

"Yeah, seriously. They downright _sparkle_ at the mere mention of his name. It's really something, Tommo." 

"He's really something," his voice barely audible. 

She gives him a soft smile, "You'll make this right. And then you two will make it work." 

Harry’s too important to lose, especially like this. Louis owes it to himself to at least try. Give this thing between them a shot. They can cross whatever bridges when they come to them. It’s not right to turn around before the bridges are even in sight in fear of having to cross them. 

_Let yourself be happy,_ the voice repeats a final time. 

And, yeah, he might just do that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does the zouis & haley/louis content make up for the angst?


	5. Love My Way (It's a New Rule)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from love my way by the psychedelic furs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty sydney, you already know how much i appreciate you and if i can pretend to be zayn in that one video diary, CONGRATS AGAIN ON PASSING UR DRIVERS TEST. I'm sure u don't even get that reference because you arent as obsessed with 1d as i am but whatever, i get it so that's what matters. this is my authors note i can say whatever i want to lol. 
> 
> cant believe its already chapter 5 damn lmao. this fic is really coming together, isn't it? 
> 
> anyways, I'm proud of this chapter. updates might get weird seeing as I'm going back to school tomorrow.

His phone screen has dimmed due to inactivity about ten times now. Louis is stuck. All he can do is stare at Harry’s contact. There’s a part of him that’s screaming, begging him to press call, but there’s another part. That part is the one with a hold on him, preventing him from deleting the space between thumb and phone. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to call, because he does, he just can’t seem to force himself to actually do it. After his conversations with both Haley and Zayn, he had come to the conclusion he wanted to be happy. Calling Harry meant actually trying to reach that goal. It put him out of his comfort zone and into the unknown.

Louis doesn’t like the unknown, but he does like Harry. 

Zayn comes into the kitchen. His eyebrow quirks up when Louis jumps, obviously startled by his entrance. He simply shakes his head, choosing to not press the matter. He’s moving around the kitchen, cabinet to fridge to cabinet, before he sits down at the table with a freshly made mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal. He leaves out the box and the milk for Louis, thoughtful as ever, and takes out his own phone. 

Louis accepts the silent offer, making his own bowl. He sits down across from him and is about to put the spoon in his mouth when Zayn starts, “You haven’t called him yet.” 

He sighs, here he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to address this so early in the morning. He pauses for a moment, letting the statement sink in completely. His voice slow and careful, he answers, “No. No, I haven’t.” 

“Any particular reason why?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Yeah, lots of them. Most having to do with fear. Fear of rejection, fear of the future, fear of confrontation, fear of having his heart broken further. But none that Zayn will accept. 

His spoon drops from his hand with a clink against the bowl, “I’m not doing this with you right now.” 

Zayn simply takes another bite. “Okay, man.” 

Louis feels his brows furrow on their own volition at the statement. He never lets things go this easy. He doesn’t like this. Not one single bit. “Okay?” he questions. 

He’s not talking just to hear himself. If he has to slap him just to get a reaction he... won’t. But, he is tempted. Zayn has never been this easily satiated by his answers. Especially when it‘ss Harry related. This is weird and not right and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. 

“Yeah. Okay,” he repeats. “You don’t want to talk about this, so we won’t.” 

Still skeptical of his sudden change in personality, he takes advantage of it and picks his spoon up again. He’s got his eyes trained on Zayn, studying him, looking for a sign of his true intentions. Not finding any yet, he gives up. “Pretty crazy about Di, huh?” 

The lead actress, Dina, had gotten food poisoning. They were sent the memo last night, right before they were about head to set and endure another overnight shoot. He’s sure Turtleneck is pissed and the next shoot will be god awful, but for now, he’s going to accept the surprise day off. 

“Yeah, I know. Hope she’s okay.” 

“Okay seriously? Why did you drop the subject so quickly? That’s not like you and we both know it.” 

Surprised at the outburst, Zayn lets out an unexpected laugh, “Let me get this straight. You don’t want to talk about it, but you also don’t want me to drop the subject?” 

“I don’t know why I haven’t called Harry. I want to-” he says, “I just can’t actually, y’know, do it.” 

He hums in agreement, “What are you afraid of?” 

His face falls flat, “Dude, seriously? Do you even have to ask?” 

“Fair…” he concedes, “You could wait until Friday?” 

While Zayn is technically correct, he is also incredibly wrong. It’s only been a couple of days since the fight and he’s already going insane. There’s no way he would be able to last until Friday. He’s also not sure how fair that is to Harry. 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I owe it to Harry to at least apologize. Explain myself.” 

“Maybe you should go to his place?” he offers. 

Louis considers for a moment, looking over to his phone and then back to Zayn, “Maybe.” 

“This just doesn’t feel like the best conversation to have over the phone.” His bowl empty, he gets up from the table and moves to the sink, “But do what you see fit, man. It’s up to you.” 

Yeah. It is up to him. That’s why this is so goddamn difficult. Anyone else wouldn’t even _be_ in this situation in the first place. Only Louis, the big dumb idiot who can’t deal with feelings because they’re too messy and hard to deal with. 

“I’ll decide later, right now I need iced coffee. Want to come with me?” 

Zayn laughs, “Uh, nah, man. Actually, you want me to text Haley and have her bring it over? She’s on her way, anyways.”

“Works for me, big guy.” 

He watches him walk out of the room and wraps his knuckles against the table before getting up. Putting his bowl down, he leans against the counter. Zayn, the bastard, is right. This kind of conversation, heavy and emotional, is the kind that should be done face to face. He needs Harry to see how sincere the apology is. But most importantly, he wants to see him. Hold his hand. Kiss him if everything goes well. 

Every waking moment has been spent with his thoughts split. Half of them are about the fight and how he’s going to make this right. The other half is devoted to wondering what it feels like to kiss Harry. Louis is getting whiplash from how different the two are, his mind constantly bouncing between them. Every time he gets them back on track, they veer back into kissing Harry territory and he has to straighten his train of thought back onto how to fix this situation he’s gotten himself into. He can’t get to the kissing part without the making it right part but his caveman brain doesn’t seem to listen. 

Louis supposes it’s not exactly his fault. The guy is unfairly attractive in more ways than he can count. If his horny male mind keeps picturing what it would be like to kiss him, that’s not _really_ on him. It probably doesn’t help that he can’t even remember the last time he got laid. Maybe it was weeks ago, maybe it was months. Point is, Louis has no damn clue. 

But enter Harry, waltzing into his life with his long giraffe legs and amazing voice. Louis was no match for that. Especially a Louis who can’t remember the last time he even rubbed one out. 

He swipes off Harry’s contact and opens his browser, switching to private. He grimaces at the front page of the porn site, more than half of it is overproduced weird pseudo-incest and the other portion is homemade videos with dim lighting and weird angles. Most of it is straight, the girls have overly large breasts that are as fake as their moans and you rarely ever even see the guy, mostly just his almost comically large penis. He searches and finds the page with gay porn and most of it is the same. The fake women replaced with waxy male pornstars on muscle relaxers who belt out these cringe-worthy and over the top moans. Louis wonders how it’s possible that porn is as accessible as it’s ever been and yet, it’s still impossible to find any good videos to get off to. 

Typing in search terms, he finally finds a video. It’s amateur, the camera placed a few feet from them. The two men look around his age, which aides in drawing him in, and one has long brown hair that reminds him of Harry. And _that_ is what finally does it for him. The one who looks like Harry gets on top of the other man, fingering him open slowly. It’s one of the better videos he’s seen. You can tell they have a lot of trust and communication as their bodies mold together seamlessly. The moans aren’t dramatic and fake, they’re quiet and genuine, which Louis prefers a hell of a lot more. The Harry lookalike finally enters the other man and the groan both of them let out goes straight to his groin. The hand grasped around his leaking cock moves faster, tugging at the same time as the man is thrusting. 

He bites his lips, suppressing a groan. As the man on the bottom comes, covering both of the men in the video with it, he feels the heat in his stomach spilling over. He grabs at the tissue box on the nightstand, releasing himself into the soft cotton. The relief washes over him and he closes out of the window. 

Laying there, basking in a post-orgasmic haze, his eyelids start to feel heavy. He closes them for a moment, the street noise outside faint. He wishes the bed could simply swallow him whole. It would solve a lot of problems. But it doesn’t, and it’s around mid-afternoon. If he were to nap now, he would be up the rest of the night and lord knows that’s the opposite of what he needs. Being alone with his thoughts is never a good idea. Especially not in the middle of the night. 

No, what he needs is to talk to Harry. The voice in his head says, sounding suspiciously like Zayn. 

He sighs, a hand coming up to rake through his unbrushed hair. The bathroom is adjacent to his bedroom and the door is wide open, light off. He glances around the rest of the apartment, concluding that Zayn is in his bedroom, he steps into the bathroom. Flipping on both switches, the light and the fan, he looks into the mirror. 

There are bags under his eyes. They’re a nasty shade of purple, and evidence of how much this has been weighing on him. He runs the tap, splashing some water up at his face. It doesn’t help. Wetting his toothbrush, he places a dot of toothpaste and lets his mouth get foamy before spitting into the sink. He rinses off the brush and continues brushing his teeth before spitting a final time and setting his toothbrush back into the holder. Morning breath gone and teeth cleaner, he strips off his shirt. The golden tan from the California sun is long gone, replaced by pale skin. It reminds him of how he had looked before he had moved out to Los Angeles and he’s now desperate to be back there. Soaking in the rays, getting sand between his toes and saltwater in his hair. If there was one thing he does miss about LA, it’s the beaches. There’s nothing quite like a day at the beach where you can sit on your towel and feel the sun on your bare skin. 

He turns on the shower, cold water running out of the head. He holds a hand under until it feels warm enough for him to venture in. Sliding his grey joggers off, pizza grease stain and all, he steps in. The steady stream is hitting his back. As the warm water goes down the drain, so does the tension in his muscles. All of his thoughts are replaced by the sound of the water spraying all around him and he soaks it in, allowing himself a break from the civil war breaking out in his head. The crisp white tile of the shower wall is cool to the touch when he braces his hand there. He sits for a few more moments, steadying himself. 

Louis reaches for the bottle of shampoo; it’s half empty and makes his hair smell like coconuts. He watches as the liquid falls into his hand. There’s a chromatic quality to it that shines when it hits the light just right and he turns his hand, a small smile on his lips as he watches. Feeling sufficiently entertained he massages it into his hair. Fingertips digging into his scalp, he closes his eyes at it. The best stress relief isn’t an orgasm, it’s having your scalp massaged. He’s sure of it. He lets it sit for a moment, turning and letting the water hit his chest. 

The cleaner he gets, the more clear his thoughts become. 

He rinses the shampoo from his hair, standing under the shower for a bit longer. The time spent in the shower is cut short when the water begins to run cold. Switching the knob off, the water stops flowing. Drips come out here and there as he grabs his towel and begins to dry off. Wrapping it snugly around his waist, he steps out. He glances in the mirror, looking as refreshed as he feels. 

Smiling to himself, he opens the bathroom door. Zayn’s sat at the kitchen table with Haley, three iced coffees in front of them. He picks up the one without a straw, thanking Haley before disappearing into his room to get dressed. He’s already made up his mind about seeing Harry. The current issue has shifted to being what to wear. The same Harry-induced panic he had had before the party is back with a vengeance. He’s tearing apart his suitcase once again, looking for _something_. 

He needs to wear something that not only conveys the message that he’s sorry. But more importantly, it needs to make Harry want to fuck him right there on the doorstep. Okay, maybe not that far. Around that ballpark, though. 

Pulling off his jeans because there’s something about them he just does not like, he concedes. He’s going to need help. Opening up his door, shirtless, and clad only in boxers, he looks to Zayn and Haley. Her eyes snap up, widening when they see how little clothing he has on. Zayn must notice this because he’s turning his neck to get a look at Louis and unlike her, he just rolls his eyes. “Yes, Lou?” 

“Help. Me,” he says through gritted teeth. 

The two of them chuckle but get up from their chairs nonetheless. Haley walks over to the suitcase and begins to rifle through the mess. Zayn leans against the doorframe while Louis can only sit helplessly on the bed. She makes her selection of jeans, tight black denim with rips in the knees. He smiles at it, he really should have known that was the right choice. Putting one leg in, he stops her rummaging, “That one.” 

She’s got a button-up with thick blue stripes going up it that he rarely wears in her hands. Her eyes flit down to the article and assess it. Holding it up against his chest, she nods. They look to Zayn who shrugs. He buttons the jeans and takes the top from her hands. He slides his arms into it, letting it hang open for a moment. While he could mimic Harry and button three and nothing more, the three of them agree it looks better buttoned most of the way. There’s still a couple undone at the top, his collarbones displayed modestly. Haley looks him over, opening the shirt a bit more and fussing with his hair before turning to look at Zayn.

He smiles lightly, giving him a soft laugh, “I’d go gay for you, man. You look great.” 

“You sure you’re into Harry? Maybe you meant Haley but got all mixed up. The names are kind of similar,” she jests, earning a relieved laugh from Louis. 

“I’m doing this,” his confidence is flimsy, evidenced by the slight shake to the words, “I’m really doing this.” 

Zayn strides closer, placing his hands on his cheeks. He holds them there, allowing Louis to admire his strong cheekbones. “Yeah, Tommo, you are.” he pats his cheek before letting it go. “Go get him, Tiger.” 

“Uck, who you are, his dad? Jesus, Z. Work on your pep talks,” Haley remarks. 

He looks between them and laughs lightly. Tension releasing from his shoulders. Louis steps into his shoes and allows them both another once over. Their smiles say everything and he hugs them both. He’s doing this. No going back now. 

The three of them exit the room and he briefly debates stalling. It would be fruitless, he decides, and he simply walks through the kitchen. Zayn and Haley have abandoned him, sitting back at the kitchen table and continuing their conversation like nothing had even happened. Assholes. 

* * *

He knocks on the door, heart beating out of his chest, and waits. His foot is tapping against the dirty hall carpet and he’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The sound of the door opening is what makes his eyes shoot up. It opens slow and Harry’s on the other side. His hair is a mess and he’s got bright red cheeks. His shirt is all the way open, a new tattoo, a butterfly, on display. Louis takes it in, swallowing the lump in his throat, and makes eye contact with Harry. 

The smile he gets back is half-hearted. It’s barely even a smile. Worn and in pain. There’s an uncomfortable silence as he tries to remember what he wanted to say. His mouth is hanging open, words heavy on the tip of his tongue. Louis has decided to ramble, forgoing the perfect speech he had prepared in his head on the walk over, when he’s interrupted by another voice from inside the apartment, “Hey, Haz. Do you have-” it’s female, for one, and secondly, the woman attached to it is gorgeous. 

The woman in question pauses when she sees Louis and gives Harry an odd look before returning back to the depths of the flat. He closes his mouth and turns on his heel. He was wrong. This was a bad fucking idea. Harry is a bad idea. 

What was he thinking? 

Harry had moved on, quickly, but moved on nonetheless. He’s fighting back tears as he walks away. The sound of Harry's protest are drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears. It’s loud, louder than his pounding heart, and he wants it to end. He wants this feeling to end. It’s got him on the verge of collapsing right here in the stairwell. Louis feels consumed with it, a knot in his stomach and hurt in his heart, but doesn’t know what to do to fix it. 

The woman’s face is burned into his mind. He feels like it will be forever. Each time he closes his eyes, attempting to catch his breath, he sees her slim nose and platinum blonde hair. Her eyes had been a light brown shade and her smile had been bright. Even without makeup, she had seemed to glow. Must be the look you get after having sex with Harry Styles. Not that Louis knows, or will ever know. 

He sits for a moment outside of Harry’s apartment, similar to what he had done that night at the bar. Except he doesn’t have Zayn to hold him close and let him cry into his shoulder. The city sounds the same as it always does. It’s nice to have that constant. It’s anchoring him to reality and allowing him to breathe. He watches as people pass him, headphones in listening to music or chattering away on their phones, unaware of his existence. In some ways, he likes feeling invisible. It lets him slink away and be in his feelings. Be in his head. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of the concrete steps beneath him. They’re definitely dirty, no part of this city isn’t, but he would have fainted if he hadn’t sat down. So, he’s grateful for them. Picking at the peeling railing he hears the door open. 

Against his better judgment, he turns to look. 

It’s Harry, shirt closed and face back to normal. His hair is somehow messier like he had been tugging at it himself. He comes to sit next to Louis. Not overly close but not awkwardly far. He doesn’t speak for several moments, simply letting himself be around Louis. His own words die in his throat and he waits for Harry to make the first move. 

People pass them. Going into the building and going out. Each new person that does, Louis feels himself getting more and more comfortable sitting with him in complete silence. He feels eyes burning a hole into his temple and he turns to greet them. The eyes are the same shade of green they had been the first night he saw him. Emerald and sparkling and full of hope. He smiles, hoping to say something with that. Harry smiles back and finally speaks, “Gemma’s my sister. She came to see how I was doing, seeing as just a couple nights ago I had called her crying about some boy.” 

“Harry, I-” 

“No, Lou. Please, let me talk for once,” he says softly, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Louis can only nod and gesture for him to go on. 

His voice shaky, he begins to continue, “I remember seeing you in the audience. Blue eyes, cheekbones, long eyelashes, bright smile. I thought you were… perfect. And then I spoke to you. You have this way about you. You,” he pauses, trying to not stumble over his words, “You managed to make everything you say so interesting and I was. Interested. I still am. I know, okay, I know you’re going back to LA soon. But fucking hell, Louis, I don’t care.” 

“The buttons on your shirt,” he says. 

“What?” Harry asks, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You had only buttoned like 3 of them. Max. I looked at that and your tattoos and I just-” he wipes his hands on his jeans. “I really like you, Harry.” 

His smile finally manages to reach his eyes. Dimple making an appearance as well. Louis is sure his face mirrors Harry’s. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” he asks, head tilted slightly in confusion. 

“For putting you on the spot like that in front of everyone that night. It wasn’t right. I should’ve- I don’t know what I should have done but… not that,” Harry finishes. 

Harry is too pure for this world.

“I’m sorry too, Popstar,” Louis says, looking back up at Harry. “I’m just scared. So fucking scared.” 

His brows furrow. “Of me?” 

“Of…” he thinks for a moment. “Everything. You, my feelings, your feelings, the future.” 

Harry clasps their hands and places them onto his lap. “You have nothing to be afraid of. Okay? We’ll figure everything out. Together,” his voice is full of certainty. “If that’s what you want, of course.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I want that.”

He’s not quite as certain, but he’s getting there. 

“That night at the party. In my bedroom. I, uh- I wanted to kiss you," Harry admits. 

“I wanted to kiss you too.” 

“Do you… want to kiss me now?” he asks, voice cheeky as he scoots closer. 

He hums like he’s deep in thought, “I wouldn’t be opposed, per se.” 

Harry’s huffing “Wouldn’t be opposed” under his breath as he moves in. His lips press against his. Their lips are both slightly chapped, the fall air surrounding them having done no favors, but it’s still the best kiss of his whole life. It’s too hard and too gentle all at the same time. He can’t get enough of it. This feeling. It’s like no other. 

Louis feels his mouth open on its own as soon as Harry swipes his tongue on his bottom lip. It’s like his body is finally overriding his brain and he could not be more grateful. The kiss is likely far too heated for the steps outside his apartment but he doesn’t care. Can’t find a single atom in his body that does. He wants more. Wants to kiss every single each of his skin, wants Harry to kiss every inch of him, wants to kiss him for the rest of his life, and never stop. Not for a second. 

It ends far too soon and not soon enough, both of them gasping like they’ve been underwater for hours. In a way, they had been. Louis felt as though he was drowning in Harry. His emerald eyes, the faint taste of cupcake frosting, his fingers digging into Louis’ hips. It’s pulling him under, deeper and deeper, and he knows that he’s gone. He’s far gone for Harry, even if he hadn’t realized just how far. 

He’s beginning to like the feeling of falling. 

They’re smiling at each other like idiots when Gemma comes out. She looks at the space, or lack thereof, and shakes her head. They can only giggle as she walks pasts. Harry stands up, offering his hand. Louis takes it and revels in how good it feels to have this kind of contact with him. They kiss the whole way up to his apartment, stopping to kiss against walls before one of them pulls away and runs off. It’s simply to tease each other but it feels so good. Everything he does with him feels like he was meant to be doing it. They’re smiling into the kisses, giggling to themselves every so often. Hitting Harry’s door, he lets himself be pressed against it. He feels the doorknob pressing into his back but he doesn’t care. All he’s focused on is Harry. 

Louis leans forward, grabbing the handle behind him. Harry hits the door closed with his foot, not taking his lips off of his for a second. He feels himself bump into the couch. It must make Harry realize what he’s doing because he pulls back. His eyes are full of something that Louis can’t decipher. They’re still close. Heavy breath and flushed cheeks. 

He smiles, small but genuine, and Louis is immediately afraid for what’s going to come next. 

“I, um, I really like you. Like really _really_ like you. I do-” 

He interrupts with a roll of his eyes and a teasing, “On with it, Styles.” 

Harry sighs and finally blurts it out, “I want to take things slow.” 

Louis takes his hands, letting himself enjoy the feeling. The heat and passion of the moment having been replaced by something more delicate. More fragile. Meaningful. 

“Okay, love. We can go as fast or as slow as you want. It’s up to you,” his voice is as soft as his smile. “You want to just talk for a bit? Get things out into the open?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I- I’d really like that,” he squeezes his hands before moving to sit on the sofa. 

There’s a small amount of space between them. They sit there for a few moments and he’s not sure whether he or Harry should start. Just as he does, so does Harry. They both blush and smile like school kids before doing it again. 

Their laughter cuts the tension. Harry starts without interruption and he feels as though he hangs on to every word that comes out of his mouth. “I haven’t- Okay, um… I haven’t ever had a proper relationship with a guy before. Girls? Yeah. But guys? It’s only been one night stands.” 

Louis smiles softly, sitting back against the couch. “Me either. I mean I’ve never had a relationship, uh, like… ever?” he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was even holding. “And I think that I want one… with you.” 

Harry curls closer to him. “I want one with you, too.” 

“Good. Yeah,” he rests his against Harry’s chest and can hear his heartbeat, faster than normal but not pounding. “I just have one thing.” 

“Oh, um, okay.” 

He plays with the hem of Harry’s shirt, fidgeting a bit. “I live in LA, Harry.” 

“Right…” he shakes his head. “Yeah, of course. God, I can’t believe I forgot… is,” he trails off. 

Louis tilts his head to look up at him. “Is what?” 

“Is that why- why you… that night?” 

“Yeah… that’s why.” 

It’s silent in the apartment, save for the sound of the ceiling fan. It’s spinning, around and around, and Louis is following one blade with his eyes. He can feel Harry’s fingers beginning to draw circles on his back. It seems that he’s not aware he’s even doing it. 

As Harry’s fingers go around and around, like the ceiling fan, so do the gears in his head. “Zayn, he... He wants to move here,” he says, voice careful and slow. 

“And you?” he says expectantly. 

He leans up to kiss Harry because he can now. “I’m not sure,” he answers. “You. You are the only thing I’m sure of.” 

Harry’s eyes soften around the edges and his dimple pops out, silently he cheers. He loves that fucking dimple almost as much as he loves Harry. “Yeah. I feel the same way. Since the day I saw you in the bar. Blue eyes and messy hair and your fucking cheekbones. I was just… sure.” 

“That’s the second time you mentioned my eyes and cheekbones.” 

“Because they’re… they’re _magnificent_.” 

Louis laughs, poking him with a teasing finger. “Big words there, Popstar.” 

Harry pokes him in the side in retaliation. “Big mouth there, Lewis.” 

He flips him completely on his back, pinning him to the couch. Louis squirms as he tickles his side. Their laughter is loud and interrupted by his protests. He’s got his wrists trapped above him. They’re breathless from the play fighting and laughing. He can feel the tension wrapping itself around the two of them. 

Harry closes the distance, kissing him again. It’s rougher and filled with more heat than the previous ones. He switches their positions so he’s sitting on his lap, straddling him properly. He brings his arms around on his neck and keeps kissing him. His hips rock slightly. Harry makes a muffled whimper at that. He does it again just to hear the sound. The friction of his clothed erection on Harry’s thigh makes him let out his own moan. 

They’re grinding against each other like horny teenagers. Their kisses have more or less turned into moaning into each other’s mouths. He kisses his jaw, sucking lightly on his neck. He whispers into Harry’s ear, “Can I suck you off?” before nipping at his earlobe. 

Harry stammers out, “Y-yeah, yes.”

Louis wastes no time after that. He puts his hands under his shirt, feeling the muscle hidden by it, before lifting it off completely. His eyes take in the sight. The tattoos, the toned abs, his four nipples. He lets out a light giggle. “You have four nipples?” 

He pinches Louis’ side. “Yes, now get to it.” 

He huffs, kissing his neck again while working on the button of his jeans. “Demanding.” 

Pulling them down, he exposes his thighs. Pale but muscular. He gets them all the way off and admires the sight of Harry in just his boxer briefs for a moment. His arms are back, his weight resting on them, and his eyes are dark. Louis practically pounces on him and keeps kissing him while his hand rests between them. He’s palming him through the tented heather-gray fabric, admiring the wet spot his precome has made. Harry keeps letting out groans when he applies more pressure and practically whines when he pulls his hand away completely. 

It feels like everything that’s happened over the last few weeks has been leading up to this moment. The lingering stares, the flirty conversations, the heated exchanges that went nowhere. Even the internal conflict that’s been going on inside of Louis since he first saw Harry up on that stage. It’s been culminating into _this_ and both of them can feel it. 

Louis moves down his body, face level with Harry’s lower half. His hands play with the waistband and he looks up at Harry. “Can I…” he trails off. 

“Yeah, Lou, _please_.” 

He rolls it down, Harry’s cock springing free. His eyes dart to his face, confirming this was okay, and return. He grazes his fingers along his thigh. Teasing for a moment. Harry whimpers in anticipation. Louis wraps his hand around experimentally. The noise that he let out at the contact was enough to send him in a frenzy. 

For so long, Louis has wanted nothing more than to completely devour him. It’s taken over every waking moment and nestled its way into his dreams. That was particularly awkward because he had to create some excuse why his sheets needed to be washed as soon as possible to Zayn who simply raised his eyebrows and let Louis ramble on about bacteria for way longer than he should’ve. 

Now that it’s actually happening, he’s got his hands on Harry and his mouth so _close_ to being on him, he kind of can’t believe it. It feels as though any second he’ll wake up and realize that, no, this didn’t actually happen. But even if it does, he’s still going to enjoy every second of it. 

He moves closer, the smell of sweat and faint cologne filling his nostrils instantly. It only arouses him more. His grip tightens as he grows more confident that, yes, Harry wants this too. A few more pumps of his closed fist are all he can take before he’s kissing up his milky white thighs. His lips are light and airy, similar to Harry’s moans. 

Louis runs his tongue up the underside of his cock. Harry shudders with his whole body and his mouth falls open. Eyes rolled into the back of his head, Louis wrapped his lips around the head. He created suction with his mouth. Tongue swirling around the head, tasting the precome that had been steadily leaking out. 

" _Lou_ ," God, he could get used to Harry saying his name like that. "Feels so good." 

Moving his head down, he took more of Harry into his mouth. The tip hit the back of his throat and Harry cried out. He bobbed his head, hand around whatever he couldn’t take in his mouth. He moaned, the sound vibrating around Harry’s cock and making his hips buck up. He rushed out a high-pitched, “Lou, _fuck_. I’m gonna-” 

Louis didn’t move, letting the come slide down his throat. He tasted better than any other guy he had let come in his mouth. He reveled in the moment a beat longer than he normally would. He climbed back up Harry’s legs. Kissing him lightly. “You taste like me.” 

He laughed, cocking his head and humming, “Mmm, you taste good.” 

His head fell into the crook of his neck, laughter filling the space. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Harry looks up then, eyes meeting Louis’. His face is a flushed and his hair is damp with sweat but he just looks so _beautiful._ There’s a moment where neither of them speak, simply taking in the moment without needing to say anything for the other to know what they were thinking. Likely because they were thinking the same thing. His jaw will be sore tomorrow from their _activities_ and he’s going to have to tell Zayn what happened and he’s got to be up early, but none of it matters right now. Not when he’s got Harry smiling at him the way he is. He wants to take a picture of it and hang it up in a gallery somewhere. Instead, he takes a mental picture and whispers a simple “You’re incredible” to Harry who presses their lips together again, lighter this time. 

They pull back, the kiss not lasting very long, and it dawns on Louis how _right_ this all feels. Sex is awkward and weird, especially the first time, and while this has been no different, the way they’re able to laugh about it has made it feel different. Maybe because it is. Maybe because Harry’s different. This thing they have between them, it’s different. Special. 

Harry grasped his hips, “This,” he gestured to Louis who was still fully clothed, “is hardly fair.” 

He shrugged noncommittally, “What are you going to do about it?” 

“This,” Harry says, moving them so he's hovering over him. 

There were fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and lips sucking a mark into his neck before he could even comprehend it. He had been neglecting his own hard cock, but Harry was on the path to changing that. He slid the t-shirt over his head, tracing the tattoos on his chest with open-mouthed kisses. As he worked his way down his abdomen, he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans. Harry’s hand that close to where he needed them most made his hips buck. He pressed them down into the couch, eyes meeting with Louis’. 

He let himself lean completely back. Skin tingling everywhere that Harry had touched. The sight of him, his full red lips and hooded eyelids, so focused on getting Louis out of his clothes was making him crazy. Harry makes him crazy. Every graze of fingertips, every press of lips, every mark he sucks into his skin. 

Any sort of worry that Louis had came with, was completely gone by now. It was incredible just how vulnerable he could be with Harry, while still feeling completely safe. Harry made him feel whole. He could tell him his biggest fears and insecurities, what makes his chest tighten with anxiety the most, the secrets he swore to take to the grave. Anything and everything. 

He wants to be completely, unabashedly himself around Harry. It’s unlike him to be this open around anyone, even his closest friends and family. But there’s something about the way Harry looks at him, his big green eyes so full of endearment, that makes him melt. Harry is someone who makes him crazy. He makes his stomach churn with worry and his head spin with thoughts but also makes his mouth curl up into a smile by just existing. 

It’s that sort of dichotomy, the fine line between driving him mad and keeping him sane, that makes Louis want him even more. 

He tugs off the jeans hastily. The denim against his skin is rough but it only arouses him more. Louis moans, which only spurs Harry on further. He nips at the pale skin beneath his jeans and he teases him by playing with the waistband of his boxer briefs. They’re black, not allowing the wet spot from the precome to be visible, but they’re strained against his standing cock. He mouths through the fabric. His breath is hot and moisture from it seeps through. Louis’ hands grasp at the couch. It’s not much use, seeing as it’s leather that he can’t grip, but it grounds him nonetheless. It manages to keep him from floating up into the skies in pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

Harry grips the waistband with both of his big hands, pulling them down suddenly. His hands immediately go around him and just that is enough to make Louis cry out. He hadn’t realized how much he needed the contact until he had it. That only spurs Harry on more apparently because he’s got his impressively pouty lips around the head of his cock before he can even catch his breath. His hand is still stroking him while his tongue laps at the sensitive tip. 

Louis feels like he’s on fire from head to toe. It’s a slow-burning, caused by Harry and Harry only. He feels heat pooling in his stomach. He doesn’t want this to end, though, so he tugs at Harry’s hair, hoping to get him to slow down, but it only makes him moan. The sound and vibrations go straight through him and he can only yell out a “Harry-” before he’s spilling into his mouth and tumbling down to Earth. 

Both of their chests are heaving as they sit back on the couch. He looks over at Harry who gives him a dopey grin and he pulls up his underwear. They’re both sweaty and it’s uncomfortable against the leather couch but he doesn’t care. Can’t find it in him to even pretend. 

If he could stay like this forever, sweaty and out of breath and spent from the best blowjob he's ever received, he would. He would stay with Harry forever. Follow him to the ends of the earth, stay with him as the oceans rise and the glaciers melt, build a spaceship and search the galaxy for a new planet to live on. 

He would go anywhere and do anything, so long as it was with Harry. 

He catches most of his breath and gets up to find his pants. Louis gets them halfway on before he’s pulled down by Harry. He falls against his chest. They settle into a comfortable silence and he curls closer into him. There’s a hand twirling through his hair and another one resting on his waist. 

They stay for a few moments, simply enjoying the company. He’s sure that Zayn and Haley are already making up their own little stories about what happened while Louis was gone but he can’t find it in him to care. Not when he’s laying on Harry’s naked chest and still has the faint taste of him lingering in his mouth. It’s the most at peace he’s been in weeks. 

“So, um, you want lunch?” 

Louis cackles and puts his head on his shoulder. “Fuck yeah. Sex always makes me hungry.” 

Harry gets up and squeezes his bum. “Was that sex? It was just blowjobs.” 

“Blowjobs are oral sex. It’s right there in the name,” he says, grabbing his shirt as they move to the kitchen. 

He lets it hang open, assuming that’s fine seeing as Harry hasn’t even bothered to put pants on. 

“If you say so, Lou,” he says, rifling through his drawer. “Chinese?” 

“Yeah, that’s good.” 

Louis watches him as he orders. He’s leaned against the kitchen counter and keeps making faces at Harry. He briefly wonders if he’s ever been this happy before. 

“Alright then. Should be here soon,” he comes to hang all over Louis. 

“What should we do in the meantime?” Louis muses.

“I’m working on a song, actually. Or, I was before Gemma got here. And then you showed up-” 

“Play it for me?” Louis interrupts. 

He nods slowly and takes his arm off from his shoulders. He immediately misses the warmth. He disappears into his bedroom for a moment, coming back with his journal and guitar. Harry sits down across from him and he looks nervous. Louis gives him a reassuring smile. “Go on, love. Play it.” 

“Um, it’s not titled yet or anything but I was thinking of calling it Adore?” 

“Adore…” he repeats. “Alright, then. Let’s hear it.” 

He strums his guitar, it’s upbeat and fun. Louis immediately loves it. Harry starts to sing, voice a bit shaky. His eyes are focused down on his journal as he starts off the first verse. 

“ _Walk in your rainbow paradise._

_Strawberry lipstick state of mind,_

_I get so lost inside your eyes._

_Would you believe it?”_

Harry looks up at Louis, who’s smiling bigger than he has in his whole life, and his voice becomes more confident as he continues. 

_“You don’t have to say you love me,_

_You don’t have to say nothing,_

_You don’t have to say you’re mine.”_

He can imagine Harry on stage with the rest of the boys, singing and dancing and having the time of his life, performing this song. It’s fun and sweet and he’s so in awe that someone as amazing as Harry is in his life at all, let alone wants to have a relationship with him. 

As he starts to sing the chorus, he looks back up from his notebook and starts singing directly to Louis. He keeps giggling, mostly to himself, but it’s sweet and adorable and he’s so perfect that it hurts. 

_“I'd walk through fire for you._

_Just let me adore you,_

_Oh, honey,”_

They laugh at the nickname and Louis begins to bop his head along to it. 

_“I'd walk through fire for you,_

_Just let me adore you,_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do,_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do”_

He finishes singing and strums his guitar a couple more times before he stops playing altogether. He’s got a massive grin on his face. “So... what do you think?” 

“Adore You.” 

His head tilts in confusion. “What?” 

“The title. It should be Adore You, not Adore.” 

Harry must agree because he’s writing in his notebook and nodding. “Um, I haven’t finished it but I had an idea for the second pre-chorus?” 

Louis gestures for him to go on. “Alright.” 

He nods and strums the same melody again. 

_“You don’t have to say you love me,_

_I just wanna tell you something,_

_Lately, you’ve been on my mind.”_

“So it’s the same line as the first pre-chorus and then different line, different line?” he nods simply. “I like it. They sound good together. It’s… it’s really good.” 

“You mean that?” his eyes are big and full of hope. 

Louis can feel himself getting softer and softer every second. “Yeah, H. I mean it. You’ve got so much talent. Your voice, your writing, your guitar playing. Everything.” 

He sets his guitar down and comes back to sit next to him. “That means so much coming from you.” he pulls Louis even closer. “Truth is, I could care less what other people think about my songs. Your opinion. That’s the one that matters.” 

He leans in and kisses him lightly. Harry smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms around his neck. “I’m really happy.” 

“Me too, H,” he presses their lips together softly and pulls back. “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love u all, thank you so much for reading.


	6. Louis Tomlinson Is Not a Coward.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its his new mantra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright sydney, here's the part of a new chapter where i thank you for reading it first because you're lovely. you keep me going and keep me writing and keep me motivated. i don't know where i would be with this thing without you. 
> 
> school's back in session for me, so I'm extremely tired but powering through it with lots of caffeine. this story is probably going to keep me sane so don't think I'll give up on her anytime soon. 
> 
> to everyone who does read this, you're the best. completely and totally the best. i hope u know how much i appreciate you just for simply taking the time to read something i pour my heart and soul into writing. you're all wonderful. 
> 
> and once again, sydney ur my girl. never forget <3 (wait no that's the 9/11 slogan, this isn't 9/11 you new york bitch)

“So…” Louis starts, drawing circles with his index finger on Harry’s naked chest, “When did you lose your virginity?” 

Harry considers for a moment, face covered in confusion. “I was… 17?” he answers finally, still sounding unsure, “With a girl at least. But with a guy I was much older, wasn’t until my senior year of college.” 

“Keep forgetting you went to college, Popstar.” 

The two of them had been getting to know each other better for the last hour. After they made up on Tuesday, Louis had this need to be with Harry constantly. Even just being around him, sitting in complete silence while Harry wrote new songs or practiced new ones and Louis typed up his newest screenplay idea, was enough to satiate the need. 

He would get up sometimes, kiss him simply because he could, and go back to what he was doing. Louis had almost forgotten just how good this felt. To have this level of security with someone. He’s never had anything like it with anyone as pretty as Harry, though. 

That part, the whole relationship bit, is still hard for Louis to get used to. It’s only been a week, a week of heated makeouts and blowjobs, and one failed attempt of going to a fancy restaurant and many takeout dinner dates with Netflix, but he’s already so in love with him that his chest hurts every time he even thinks about it. It’s weird knowing that he can be himself around Harry. Sure, it’s still early days, they’re in this honeymoon phase where they can’t keep their hands off one another and haven’t had a single fight yet. But it’s still a relationship. Something that neither of them has really had any experience with. 

Harry chuckles, the hand on Louis’ waist tightening a bit, “I used to have a real job and everything. Now I’m fun Uncle Harry who plays guitar and comes over every day to babysit.” 

“You’re a big fan of kids, eh?” Louis teases. 

“Wouldn’t say that, y’know. Mostly because that sounds creepy as fuck.” 

He full-on cackles, the laughter being muffled as he puts his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. “Jesus, H.” 

Harry throws his hands up in protest. “What? I’m totally right.” 

“You are, but you also know what I meant,” he says, “Let me rephrase then: you’re a big family man I take it?” 

“There,” Harry pokes him in the side lightly, “That’s a lot better. But- yeah, I am. Always wanted a bunch of kids. And a cat. I really want a cat.” 

Of course, Harry wants a cat. He embodies the word cat person perfectly. 

“You probably want a bunch of kids because you grew up with one sibling. Try having like a million sisters.” 

Harry shrugs. “Your family seems fun.” It’s said wistfully as if he wants badly to know if the statement is actually true but isn’t sure how to go about telling Louis that. 

“Never a dull moment in the Tomlinson-Deakin household,” Louis giggles. “My mom would like you.” 

“Already thinking about having me meet the parents, are we?” 

Yes. 

“ _ No!”  _ Louis squeaks out quickly, “No,” he clears his throat. “I’m just-” 

Harry starts to laugh. “Yeah, sunshine, I got it.” 

Louis narrows his eyes, sending the meanest look he can muster. It’s still framed with fondness, seeing as the look is directed at Harry. He couldn’t be mean to him even if he tried. 

Their friends all seem more than thrilled that they’ve finally got their shit together. Zayn and Niall ranted for a long time to each other after the show about how annoying it was to deal with the two of them. He and Harry both just sort of stood there, giggling to each other at how dumb they had been. That night, Harry had played the new song. He announced it with a big smile, even telling the audience “My Louis helped in the writing of this song” which prompted a conversation about labels. They decided on giving it a bit, letting words like boyfriend come more naturally. 

He liked being Harry’s Louis.

After the show, he kissed him and made a big show of it. Just to let everyone in there know that Harry was  _ his.  _ Louis had never considered himself a jealous or possessive person, he’s never really had the opportunity. But when he had someone like Harry, it was hard not to be. He’s waiting for Harry to wake up and realize that he’s out of Louis’ league. Every time he looks at him, he has to pinch his forearm. When the dream doesn’t stop, he lets himself enjoy the moment. Whatever it might be. It feels like every moment with Harry is a special one. 

He’s got an overnight shoot tonight, he’s had them the whole week, in fact, so he’s relaxing with Harry to mentally prepare himself for it. Louis had been completely right, after Dina’s bout of food poisoning was over and she was back in shape to film, Turtleneck had become even worse. They had a lot to do and not enough time to do it all. He loved to stress-eat the jelly donuts, getting powdered sugar and jelly  _ everywhere _ . But Turtleneck never seemed to learn from this and kept on doing it. At a certain point, Louis was ready to throw himself over the bridge they were filming on. It was way too early in the morning and he was not getting paid nearly enough to deal with all of it. 

But then he’d come to Harry’s and everything would melt away. 

There’s a voice in the back of his head that keeps reminding him that he’s not going to have Harry forever. And every time it speaks, he wants to take a baseball to his own skull just to shut it up. Because he fucking  _ knows.  _ He’s simply choosing to enjoy his time with Harry instead of spending all of it worried about the future. It’s a mistake he’s made enough to finally have learned from. It feels as though Louis has won one war with himself and started another. 

Harry moving from beneath his is what gets him to snap out of his head. “I’m just going to the bathroom, you’re good to go back to sleep.” 

“I was asleep?” 

“Your eyes were closed, babe,” he says. 

Louis blushes at the pet name. God, he could get used to those. 

“If you say so,” he sits up against the headboard and waves Harry away. 

His phone has sat unused for the whole time he’s been here so he checks it quickly. He’s got the usual stream of notifications: various social media, a couple of texts, maybe an email or two. He swipes through Twitter before realizing that he doesn’t want to be depressed by the news right now and exits it, choosing to text with Zayn instead. He just keeps teasing Louis about his new relationship and he’s ready to go home simply to strangle him by the time Harry walks back into the room. 

“What’s that look on your face?” he asks. 

He rolls his eyes, shutting his phone off. “Zayn,” he answers simply. 

“Ah,” he slinks back into the bed, slipping his arm back around Louis, “Niall was over yesterday and spent the whole time talking about a girl he’s into but wouldn’t tell me her name.” 

Louis’ brows furrow. “Thought he and Haley…” 

“Oh yeah, they are. He’s just pretending that we don’t all know. They think they’re a secret.” 

He laughs. “How? They’re almost as bad as us.” 

Harry tickles him, making him squirm and laugh even louder, “No one’s as bad as us, snookums.” 

“Stop, stop,” he pleads through his giggles. “I get it, we’re the cutest couple known to man.” 

He stops, leaning in for a quick peck. “As long as you know.” 

It’s close to the afternoon now, both of them know that Louis should head home but neither say it. It’s easy to get wrapped up in this and forget that the outside world exists. In his mind, all that matters is Harry. His mind is a constant stream of  _ Harry, Harry, Harry  _ and he’s the opposite of used to it. But it’s not exactly a bother either. He can’t film the scene where the two main characters finally kiss without daydreaming about kissing Harry, he can’t walk home without passing the sandwich shop they had their unofficial first date at, he can’t look through his suitcase without seeing the outfit he had picked out the day they got together. Everything and anything reminds him of Harry. 

This feeling, this one of complete and total happiness, is all-consuming. Louis can feel the buzz under his skin from head to toe. It’s electric. It gives him a spring in his step, a reason to wake up in the morning, something to dream about during the day and the night. He’s not sure why he was even afraid of going for this. That’s the thing about hindsight, it allows you to notice what a dumbass you used to be so you hopefully never end up making those mistakes again. 

Louis, the big dumb idiot who can’t deal with feelings, is dealing with a lot of feelings and he’s not collapsing under the weight of them. He’s  _ enjoying  _ them. It’s not a first, certainly not, but it’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt this type of love for someone. 

“My first love?” Louis clarifies. 

Harry nods. “Yeah, tell me about them.” 

He hums, “I could go all film guy-y and tell you my first love was a camera- but I’ll pretend to be a mature adult for a couple seconds.” 

“Appreciate it.” 

“His name was Caleb. He was… he was something special. I was a teenager and he was the first guy who had reciprocated feelings, sort of. And it was weird, definitely weird, but also good? I don’t know- I just remember how I’d look at him and just feel happy. He was my first kiss. We were completely wasted,” he laughs at the memory, “But it was the happiest I had ever been. The next day when we were completely sober, that was the worst day of my life.” 

Harry intertwines their fingers. “Why’s that?” 

“He pretended it didn’t happen. Acted cold towards me and shattered my idea of him in my head. It sucked and it hurt and I didn’t get over it for a while. Some good came out of it though. That day was the day I came out to my mom. She’s supportive, always has been, and always will be, and she was more mad at him for breaking my heart than me for being gay.” 

“My mom wasn’t supportive at first. She tried, God did she try,” he laughs, “But she was this devout Christian lady and it went against her faith. I mean, in the end, she chose me over her faith, in a sense. She still believes in God and all that, but she’s learned to be more accepting. My sister was probably the one that helped the most during that time. She pushed my mom a lot, kept telling her that it was stupid, and would quote Bible verse after Bible verse trying to convince my mom. She also would hold me at night and let me cry it all out. That’s why she’s so overprotective of me. Because she’s had to see me like that and never wants to see it again.” 

“When I told Lottie she took it as her invitation to talk to me about guys. Learned way too much about what my, at the time teenage, sister likes in a guy that day,” Louis says. 

“Oh my fucking God, Gemma did too.” 

They laugh, the tension the heavier topic had caused completely lifted. 

“It’s nice to talk to someone about all of this stuff. I made friends with a bunch of straight dudes who didn’t actually understand, so this,” he gestures with his free hand, “is honestly so... great.” 

“You’re great.” Harry boops Louis’ nose lightly with his finger. 

He blushes a bit from it. “Shuddup.” 

“Never,” he jokes, leaning in to kiss him. 

It’s light, nothing too heated but it feels appropriate after all the sharing they’ve just done. The more he learns about Harry, the more he falls in love with him. His childhood, his friends, his time in college, his time as a teacher, his love for baking. It’s all so  _ Harry  _ and Louis is obsessed with it. He wants to know everything about him, from the time he was born until right now, and then hear it over again another fifty times. It’s not that his life is particularly interesting, but it’s Harry’s life, so yes it is interesting. So interesting. The most interesting. 

God, he is in deep. 

He lets Harry up again and watches as he heads to the kitchen. Louis takes it as his cue to also leave the bedroom, something he hasn’t done since he got here. The walls of Harry’s apartment are a lilac color that goes perfectly with the blue cabinets in the kitchen. He’s got magnets and pictures covering his fridge, the white almost completely hidden. He sits at the wooden table and glances up at them as Harry fills up a pot with water and sets it on the hot stovetop. There’s a box of pasta sitting on the counter and a strainer sitting in the sink, so it’s safe to say they’re having pasta for dinner tonight. He leans against the counter and makes a face at Louis. 

It’s the way they communicate without words that intrigues Louis the most. It’s like they can read each other’s minds. He knows what every expression means: every twitch of the eyebrow, every turn of the lips, every crinkle of the forehead. It has a meaning that he can instantly decipher. And Harry does the same. All he needs to do is shoot him a look and he knows exactly what it means and what he wants. It’s barely even a thought as if they were just born knowing everything about one another. As if they were made for each other. Soulmates. 

The concept of soulmates is one that Louis has toyed with once or twice. Coming from a single-parent household and having three different father figures, he was never warm to the idea. But Louis was a hopeless romantic at heart. He loves love. It’s not like daydreaming about meeting someone who was perfect for him was doing any harm either. It was a comforting thought. To picture someone he was meant to be with. The idea that someone was sent out in the world for Louis to find, and that person was tailor-made to fit with him, yeah he liked that. He especially liked it after particularly rough rejections or bad first-dates. It helped to get him to sleep at night. That’s all soulmates had been to him: a fantasy. 

But in waltzes Harry Styles. He’s gorgeous and funny and kind and talented and driven and family-oriented and intelligent and honest and a good cook. The perfect balance of similarities and differences to Louis. As if they were sculpted from the same stone by different artists. 

So… soulmates might be far-fetched, especially when they aren’t even officially boyfriends yet. 

Part of Louis has never felt this way so fast. He fell hard, with no real warning. It was this instant connection that completely took him by surprise. That’s why he’s leaning towards them being soulmates. Because… when you know, you know. Or something like that. 

Maybe it’s because Harry was born with blowjob lips. They’re pouty and pink and he bites them constantly so they’re always a shade more obscene then they should be. He also loves to give them. It’s as though he’s getting the same amount of enjoyment as Louis gets receiving, which makes them that much better. Sex with Harry, even though they haven’t gone all the way, is fucking amazing. It’s sometimes slower, they take their time with foreplay and tease each other with slow kisses and trailing open mouths that go lower and lower at an excruciatingly slow pace. But other times it’s heated and fast and rough, they tease just as much but with nips to the thighs and neck that leave purple marks. It’s everything all at once with Harry and he can’t seem to get enough of it. 

Harry doesn’t have the same aversion to feelings as Louis does. He likes them, it seems. Even when life is messy and tough, there’s Harry with his sunshine smile and determined attitude. It’s inspiring in a way. It’s also fucking terrifying to Louis, who could not be more opposite. But it’s good for him to be around someone like that. Zayn was always reserved as well, choosing to use the times he did speak to pack the ultimate punch, so Harry is the first person he’s spent this much time with who is this… open. It’s fascinating how he goes through life like every moment is a special one. It’s captivating to watch him as he finds a moment of beauty in ordinary things like the barista’s handwriting on a specific coffee date a couple of days ago. He had stared at the loopy scrawl on his cup in amazement like it was the coolest thing he had ever laid eyes on in his whole life. That kid-like wonder in the emerald green eyes of the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen was what Louis could stare in amazement at the whole day. 

He’s not scared to tell Louis how he feels about him, even in the most random of moments. They’ll be on the couch, watching an episode of a sitcom while eating food from whatever place they ordered from, and Harry will turn to him and stare for a moment. The stare will eventually catch Louis’ attention, who will return the gaze. He’ll lean in closer and whisper something sweet like “you’re so beautiful” or “I’m glad you gave me a chance” and Louis will melt. His whole body will liquefy and slip off the leather sofa in a puddle, but it’s a happy puddle. He’d be more than happy to feel that warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach for the rest of his life. 

God, he’s getting ahead of himself. Rest of his life? Soulmates? Liking feelings? 

He has no clue who he’s become, but he likes this new Louis. The Louis who’s not afraid to picture a future with Harry where they’re in a big house with a picket fence and three kids and a golden retriever. The Louis who imagines some divine force making Harry specifically for him and sending them out in the world to find each other. 

The Louis who is happier than any other Louis yet. 

Talking through his fears and worries with Harry always seemed daunting. That was until they started to do it almost every night. Their conversation would be a few minutes at the most, but they were honest and unafraid to say everything they’ve never said aloud to someone else. 

Harry may never have been in a relationship, but Louis is seriously stumped as to why. It’s like he’s waiting for a big red flag to start swaying in the wind, answering the question that’s dinged around his head for far too long now, but it never does. The skies are clear. Blue like the cabinets in Harry’s kitchen with big puffy white clouds the color of his pillowcases. 

It seems as though everything brings up a connection to Harry. Oh, that man has long hair? Harry. Does that girl have pink nail polish? Harry hasn’t painted his nails pink in a while. What a lovely engagement ring this lady has, you know who wears a lot of rings? Harry. 

For every question, Harry is the answer. 

“So, Popstar?” Louis prompts. 

He turns his attention away from the TV screen. “Yeah, babe?” 

_ Babe.  _

“If you could go anywhere in the whole world,” he pauses for dramatic effect, effectively drawing out the suspense, “Where would you go?” 

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ temple. “Anywhere,” he answers. “As long as you were with me.” 

There’s not a single doubt in Louis’ mind that he’s being completely sincere. 

“Yeah,” he says, “I feel the same.” 

“I’ve never really felt like I’ve had a home. New York is, in a sense, but I feel like I could pick up and move anywhere and not really feel any sort of draw to come back here.” 

Louis plays with the hem of Harry’s shirt. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I just- I guess I think that home is more of a… feeling?” Harry says, grabbing his hand to stop the fidgeting. “Not a place. More like, the feeling you get being in a place.” 

He enjoys the view of Harry’s black nails, the polish is chipping and almost completely gone from most nails, next to his bare ones. 

Louis is about to speak when Harry starts again, “I’ll make this feel like home if you let me.” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Yeah, Lou.” 

He curls even close, not for warmth because the moment has made a pleasant warm feeling wrap itself around Louis, but to feel as physically close to him as he does emotionally. It’s incredible how he feels as though he’s known Harry his whole life. He can barely picture life without him, let alone imagine how he ever survived before they met. Harry makes his life feel complete.

Harry makes him feel whole. 

***

He’s tapping his pen against the paper, trying his hardest to think of another line for this song. Louis is not a song-writer, will never and has never claimed to be, but he wants to do this for Harry. No matter how much it sucks. It’s the thought that counts, right?

Zayn bickers with him about dinner which distracts him from the frustrated bubble of rage that’s right beneath the surface for a minute or two. But then Zayn’s leaving again and he’s alone with nothing but his notebook and his thoughts. He’s ready to bash his head in. 

Whoever decided Louis should be able to think should go to jail. Maybe hell, but that’s a bit extreme. That person just needs to be punished for what they’ve done. Seriously, he’s done listening to himself go over the same 3 lyrics over and over again, as though through sheer willpower he’ll make it sound perfect. 

He gives up with a huff. It’s dramatic and unnecessary seeing as no one is in the room with him, but it feels pretty necessary at the time. He unwinds with a few episodes of some documentary on Netflix and feels like he’s got his life together for a few seconds after it ends. Then reality hits. Louis is being stupid, right? It’s just a song. But it’s also his one month anniversary present to Harry, so maybe it’s not  _ just  _ a song. It has meaning and significance and it has to be perfect. 

Crossing out the last thing he had written he sings over the pre-chorus again, “ _ I was stumbling, looking in the dark,”  _ he whisper-sings, trying to get the rhythm down.  _ “With an empty heart, but you said you feel the same.”  _

He looks up to his ceiling for answers and surprisingly, the ceiling God gives him one. He scribbles out the next lyric and sings it over, seeing if he likes it aloud as much as on paper. “ _ Could we ever be enough?”  _ he pauses, scribbling some more, “ _ Babe, we could be enough.”  _

He crosses out the babe, replacing it with baby. “ _ Baby we could be enough.”  _

Playing the drums with his fingers against the wood surface of his desk, he continues, “ _ And it’s alright, calling out for somebody to tell tonight,”  _ he shakes his head. “No, ew, no, okay.” 

“ _ Calling out for somebody to  _ hold _ tonight,”  _ he nods to himself, “Yes! Okay, yes we’re getting somewhere now.” 

This whole thinking out loud thing is helping more than he realized. 

He thinks back to the conversation he had with Harry not long ago and the inspiration for the next lyric strikes. He takes the miracle, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and hastily writes it out before it completely escapes from the confines of his brain. “ _ You’ll never feel like you’re alone, I’ll make this feel like home.”  _

Louis is ready to jump and yell in excitement. He’s finally getting somewhere with this song. His song. The one he’s writing. Because he does that now apparently. 

Taking the victory, he leaves the song where it is and goes to get a drink of water. He pours himself a glass and ignores the weird quirked eyebrow that Zayn is giving him. He sighs and turns to face him. “What?” 

“Just never seen you this happy, Lou,” he answers simply. 

It’s honest, incredibly so, and it makes this thing feel even more real. It’s not just in his head, the connection between him and Harry is something even outsiders can pick up on. 

He softens at the statement and his cheeks heat a bit. “Yeah. He’s just…” he trails off. 

“I know.” 

There’s a lull in the conversation and Zayn goes back to writing on his laptop. Louis bites his bottom lip and as though prompted by an unseen force starts again, “Idon’twanttogobacktoLA,” Louis blurts out. 

It’s the first time he’s said that out loud and he even catches himself off guard. 

Zayn’s eyes widen. “What the fuck did you just say?” 

He sighs. “I don’t want to go back to LA… not yet at least.” 

The last bit is to soften it, make it more palatable to the commitmentphobe who’s taken up shop in Louis’ brain for the last decade. It must work because he doesn’t feel like throwing up with anxiety yet. 

“Louis, man, I could have told you that,” he says. 

Holding back an eye roll, he settles for shaking his head. “I don’t want Harry to not be in my life.” 

Zayn, not missing a beat, already has another thing to say ready to go. “So don’t be an idiot. Don’t let him go. Ever. Your connection,” he gestures, “It’s a once and a lifetime type of thing.” 

And, yeah, he wasn’t planning on letting Harry go anytime soon. 

“Fuck, Z. What if I fuck this up?”

“ _ Don’t.” _

“Helpful, honestly,” Louis deadpans. 

Zayn can only shrug, effectively ending the discussion. 

He feels… weird. It’s not that he’s freaking out or anything, he’s pretty much over doing that for the most part, but he’s still not completely sure of a single thing in his life. Everything is so uncertain, but also set in hard stone, and he’s simply wishing to bury his head in the sand. Forget that he’s a living person with any sort of responsibilities and move out to a cabin in Vermont, live off the grid and hunt for food and not tell anyone he’s there. Do something to escape from himself and this world and what this world does to him. 

But he can’t do that. He won’t. He’s going to put his big boy pants on and get through this and not run away this time. Louis Tomlinson is not a coward. Maybe if he chants it like a spell, it will come true. Louis Tomlinson is not a coward. 

Louis Tomlinson is not a coward. It’s his new mantra. 

He gets up in the morning, he says it to himself. He goes to bed, he says it. He keeps working on the song, he repeats it. He sees Harry, he screams it into the white void of his mind. 

Louis might be a lot of things, but a coward is not one. He’s stubborn and oblivious at times and impatient and scared of commitment and overthinks everything he does, but he refuses to be a coward. Not anymore. Not when being a coward means losing Harry fucking Styles. 

***

There’s a decent amount of people crowded into the club right now. He’s got Harry’s hand rested on the small of his back comfortably; it’s under his jacket but on top of his shirt, the warmth from it radiating through. The strobe lights are red and moving from one end of the dancefloor to the next, allowing him the occasional view of people grinding and swapping spit. It reminds him of the days where he would go out and club, purely to pick up some guy. Not paying the dancefloor any more attention, his eyes seek out his friends. 

He spots Niall and Liam at a hightop with no drinks in front of them. By the time he and Harry make it over, Haley’s also on her way with three drinks in her hand. “Get your own drinks. It’s not my job.” 

“I mean…” Louis starts. 

She cuts him off. “It’s not my job right now. Better?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Babe, what do you want?” 

His friends roll their eyes at the couple but he ignores them, sending his middle finger over to Haley who fake gags at the bare minimum of PDA from the new couple. 

Harry lets go of him to settle into a chair. “Something girly.” 

“Right, then,” he glances around. “Where’s Zayn?” 

He feels a tap on his shoulder and Zayn is behind him, “You need your eyes checked.” 

Shrugging, he starts walking away. “Probably.” 

He orders a sex on the beach for Harry, hoping that will send a clear message, and gets whatever they have on tap in his own pint. He makes his way through the crowd with the drinks, trying his best not to spill them. It feels like once he gets passed one person, another gets in his way. Repeat that the whole way from the bar to the table and Louis is sufficiently annoyed by the time he makes it there. Harry picks up on it instantly, motioning for him to sit. He slides an arm around him and kneads his hand into the tight muscle of his shoulder. Louis feels his head fall back at the massage, tension leaving him almost immediately. He mouths a silent “thank you” to Harry and tries to engage in the conversation going on. 

“Guys seriously, we  _ know,”  _ Zayn says, clearly frustrated. 

“What do we know?” Louis asks. 

Haley huffs, leaning away from Niall. Odd. “Nothing.” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Zayn is trying to get Haley and Niall to admit they’re together.” 

Now that he and Harry have their shit together, Zayn has apparently moved on to playing matchmaker for another pair of his friends. Typical. 

Harry starts to laugh at that, head thrown back and eyes closed. “Never going to happen.” 

“What’s never going to happen?” Niall asks, bordering on being offended. 

“You’re never going to admit to being with Haley.” he turns to Zayn. “Man, I’ve tried. Trust me.” 

The two of them look vaguely annoyed, but neither speaks. Louis takes that as his opportunity to change the subject. “So, Liam, where’s Sophia?” 

“She’s at her parents’ for the week, her sister’s graduating I guess.” 

“Oh, cool. Cool.” he takes a sip from his pint. 

Harry pipes up then. “How’s it going with you two by the way?” 

“Same old. She’s been really busy and so have I. We make it work though.” 

Haley, finally less annoyed at the whole group, speaks, “What are you even busy with, Payno?” 

Liam rolls his eyes. “We’re building a studio in Harry’s spare room to record an EP.” 

Louis’ eyes widen almost immediately. “Seriously?” he punches Harry in the arm. “And you didn’t tell me? What the hell?” 

He rubs his arm. “First of all, ow, and second, you’re at mine constantly! I thought you knew.” 

“No, I did not know, Harold.” 

Niall snickers. “Even your little arguments are adorable.” 

“We know,” they say at the same time. 

Zayn gags, “Gross.” 

“Disturbing.” Haley agrees. 

Liam puts his arm around Zayn. “Personally, I think me and Zayn are the cutest couple here.” 

“Yes, the two straight guys are definitely the cutest couple.” Harry deadpans, it’s exactly something Louis would say and exactly how he would say and a bubble of pride works its way up his chest. 

Haley starts a little chant of “kiss, kiss, kiss,” but it doesn’t work and only leaves the two blushing. Harry grabs his empty glass and Louis’ and gets up without a word. It’s like the floodgates have opened because suddenly the whole table is interrogating him. 

Haley takes the first shot, narrowing her eyes and leaning closer to him. “So, you and Harry seem good. Am I right?” 

“We are,” he answers. 

Zayn takes the next swing. “One month anniversary is this week right? You’ve been more… Louis than normal.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

Niall is next up. “You doing anything special?” 

He’s about to answer when Liam of all people interrupts. “Oh, Christ’s sake, ask the real question we all want the answer to: are you going to move back to LA once the movie wraps?” 

It’s not silent, not even close to it. There’s obnoxious EDM blasting so loudly his eardrums hurt and there’s the added noise of people attempting to talk over the music. But it feels like it is. He’s got every single one of his friends staring him down, waiting for an answer. Saved by Harry’s arrival, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Harry asks him a question with his eyes but he shakes his head. He turns to Zayn who only stares back with the same expression he’s had on since Liam’s outburst. 

The pressure gets to be too much and he bursts, “I don’t fucking know, okay?!” 

His friends can only look at him in disbelief and Harry looks visibly confused. Not letting anyone respond, Louis murmurs out, “I want to go dance.” 

Getting up and making his way through the crowd again, he makes it to the dancefloor. He finds a decent spot and feels Harry’s hand grab his waist. He turns to face him and softens immediately at him, any residual feelings of annoyance dissipating instantly. Linking his hands behind Harry’s neck, he pulls his down into a rough kiss. 

Harry instantly responds, kissing back just as dirty. He slips his tongue along Louis’ bottom lip and tilts his head back to deepen it. It feels fucking great. Every kiss with him is a good one, but this one feels different. It feels like Harry is showing him he understands without needing to tell him and he can only appreciate that they know each other so well. 

Louis slots his leg between Harry, grinding up a bit. The friction makes Harry moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating between them. He feels like his buzzing, both from the pounding music and from the arousal he’s feeling kissing Harry. They’re still swaying along to the beat of the song and he turns around, putting his bum to Harry’s crotch. 

Harry’s hands grip his waist pulling him close, impossibly so. He wants to be closer, wants to be so incredibly close to him always. His fingers have slipped under his shirt and will likely leave bruises from how hard they’re grasping at the skin there. Louis has his own hands behind him, touching at Harry’s face blindly. 

They’ve lost most of their rhythm, not that they had much in the first place, but are more focused on the feeling of their bodies pressed together than being on beat. Harry’s lips come down to his neck and jawline, kissing and biting in all the places that drive Louis craziest. Louis tugs at a loose curl, pulling Harry forward to slot their lips together again. “Out of here. Now.” 

“ _ Fuck yes,”  _ Harry says, grabbing his hand and pulling them towards the exit. 

Not even sparing a glance to where his friends were, he lets himself get tugged out. Harry hails a cab instantly and they climb into the backseat. He climbs over him in haste and kisses him again. The taxi-driver, a complete saint, simply asks where they’re going and Harry gives rattles off his address instantly. They go back to kissing for the remainder of the ride, their mouths only parting for air for a few moments before returning to each other. Turns are made, traffic is typical and the driver is parking by Harry’s building before they even know it. Harry grabs at his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the center console and rushing out a “thank you” and exiting the vehicle with Louis in tow. 

Similar to their first kiss, they spend the whole way up kissing and teasing each other. Instead of giggling, though, they groan each time they separate and Louis debates flinging himself into Harry’s arms and letting him carry him the rest of the way. He does eventually do just that, but not until they’ve made it through the threshold and into Harry’s apartment. 

Harry walks towards his bedroom, not stopping until he reaches the bed. Louis sits down, mouth not even leaving Harry’s. They continue the way they have the whole way, their teeth click at one point with how rushed their kisses have become, and he just wants more. His head is filled with thoughts of Harry, chanting his name over and over. His scent is filling his nostrils, his hands are on his body, his back is on his bed, his lips are on his. 

Fucking Harry Styles is the only thing he wants in life. 

He voices such a goal, his voice low and seductive in Harry’s ear, “Can I fuck you?” 

“Y-yeah,” Harry answers, caught off guard slightly. 

Pausing for a moment, he pulls back completely. “You’re sure?” 

Harry softens, placing his hands on his cheeks, “Yeah, Lou. I, um... You mean a lot to me.” 

It sounds a lot like a love confession, but maybe Louis is imagining things. 

“You mean a lot to me too, H.” 

They kiss again, softer and slower, and it feels more appropriate for their first time. Harry leans over and fumbles around his nightstand until he gets the top drawer open. He’s got an unopened bottle of lube and a gold foil packet. He raises an eyebrow. “Certain, we were?” 

“Optimistic,” Harry answers, kissing him again. 

Thank you Harry Styles for being so damn optimistic all the time. 

Louis turns them so he’s on top, “At least one of us is.” 

He presses his hands to Harry’s chest and kisses his jawline. For how heated their makeout session was, they were still fully clothed. He pulled at Harry’s shirt, clumsily tugging at the buttons. It hangs open once he’s gotten them all undone and he appreciates the view for a moment, pressing a kiss to the butterfly tattoo. It’s by far his favorite. Harry sits up and he slides it off his shoulder, dropping it off the edge of the bed. He sheds his own, doing the same. 

Their kisses have more or less turned into just gasping into each other’s mouths with every roll of Louis’ hips. Harry’s hips buck up and both of them groan loudly at it. The sounds are going straight to the growing hardness straining against his zipper. His hand makes its way between them, palming at Harry through the fabric. They’ve done this part, so he knows how hard and where to press to get the reaction he wants. His fingers play with the button of his jeans until Harry groans out a “please just fucking take them off” and Louis does just that. 

The jeans are practically painted on, so they need a few good tugs before they actually slide down and off. They join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, with Louis’ not far behind. Harry’s fingers trace his “it is what it is” tattoo and his mouth kisses at the 78 on his pec. Harry had long ago confessed that Louis’ chest tattoos were his favorite and he always paid them extra attention if he could. 

There had been a late-night conversation all about which tattoos were their favorite, what the meaning behind them was, and when they got them. Louis had said that Harry’s butterfly was his favorite, followed closely by the swallows. Harry had explained the butterfly was a recent one that had been done on a whim while in Portland with Liam and Niall. It’s actually a matching tattoo with a random friend they had made during their week-long trip. They don’t even speak anymore, but Harry loves the idea that they have mtahcing tattoos to remind them of a really amazing time together. He had also explained the swallows were a coverup for one of his first tattoos that he had grown to hate. Louis kissed a line from the swallows to the butterfly that night before giving him a, if he may say, fucking amazing blowjob. 

As much as he enjoys the feeling of their clothed erections rubbing together, he much prefers it when they’re naked. He tugs down the waistband of Harry’s boxer briefs, before doing the same to his own. He thrusts up, their naked cocks sliding against each other. Their lips part slightly as they moan. His hand grips around Harry and his free hand holds him down so his hips don’t buck up. “You sure, baby?” 

Harry nods and leans up to kiss Louis. 

He keep asking him that question; one, because consent is very important and, two, because this all still feels surreal. His eyes are trained on Harry’s face, scanning for any sort of sign that he doesn’t want to do this, but he can’t seem to find a single one. 

He grabs for the lube, taking off the plastic and flipping open the cap. He’s not sure how long it’s been since Harry has last done this, but you can never have enough lube, so he squirts a generous amount onto his fingers. Sending one last look to Harry for confirmation, he presses a lubed up finger onto Harry’s hole. It’s an experimental touch, not yet having the courage to press into him, but judging by the reaction he gets from Harry, he’s not doing a bad job. 

Inserting a single finger in, his eyes flicker to Harry to gauge how he’s feeling. His eyes are shut and his face is flushed. Harry opens his eyes, but they’re dark with arousal and the look he gives is one of pure desire. Louis indulges it, feeling almost the exact same way. He moves his finger in and out a few more times until Harry grabs at his wrist, “Another.” 

He does just that, slicking another finger up with lube and pushing it past the rim. Harry’s face contorts with the stretch but after a moment he adjusts. Scissoring them, he feels Harry starting to enjoy it more and more as he opens up. He kisses him as his fingers continue to work and he pulls back just enough to speak, “Ready?” 

“Yeah, Lou. Just fucking ple-” he’s cut off by Louis adding another. 

Harry gasps, his head falling back and mouth falling open. It takes a moment before he starts to enjoy it again, Louis assumes he gets used to the burn and stretch, and he’s back to making the noises he was before but louder and more frequent. As his fingers continue thrusting, his hand wraps around his leaking cock. It must be too much because Harry grabs him to stop it, “Fuck, I’ll come embarrassingly quick if you do that.” 

Louis laughs, removing his hand. “I’m gonna come embarrassingly quick babe, don’t worry.” 

“Been a while, has it?” 

“You don’t even want to know.” 

His lips return to lazily trailing wet kisses along his jawline until Harry moans louder than he ever has with Louis. “Fuck me,  _ now. _ ” 

Louis fumbles with himself for a moment. “Y-yeah, fuck, okay.” 

He locates the bottle of lube again and the condom wrapper. He rolls it down his length and chances a look at Harry, who’s eyes are watching his every move intently. Squirting some more he stops just before, “Tell me to stop, okay?” 

“God, you asking consent a billion times is only turning me on more. Get inside me right fucking now, Jesus.” 

“Name’s Louis, not Jesus.” 

His face falls. “ _ Now. _ ” 

He thrusts in, effectively shutting himself up. Harry hissed, gripping at Louis’ hips to keep him where he is. Louis braced himself, hand next to Harry’s head, and pushed in a bit further. With every centimeter more, he could feel himself succumbing more and more into the desperate need he’s been feeling since he met Harry. As he waited for him to completely adjust to the feeling, he tugged lazily at his cock again. A few pumps were all he needed before he was writhing beneath Louis, urging him to move. 

Louis did as he was told, slowly rocking his hips. They weren’t really kissing, simply moaning into each other’s mouths, and they only got louder as he pressed further. He snapped his hips back, pulling out suddenly before thrusting in again quickly. He was aiming for the spot he knew would drive Harry craziest and didn’t hit it straight on. It got a reaction but Louis was determined to get more. Drive Harry crazier. Drive himself crazier. 

He forces his mind to wander, simply focusing on anything but the feeling of being inside Harry. He wants this to last as long as he can. So that’s how ends up thinking about this whole staying in New York v.s. Going back to LA thing. He’s still insanely conflicted about moving. As they get closer and closer to the end, the more he wants to dig his heels in and just not choose. While Zayn has a point, they could find work here and it would allow them to explore new avenues like writing, he’s also so wrong. They can’t pick up and move here. He’s not sure he would be able to sabotage his career for a relationship that’s barely a month old. 

But at the same time, Harry’s words had stuck with him. Los Angeles isn’t his home, it’s a place that makes him feel at home. So does New York. So does Harry. 

And that’s when it dawns on him, Harry is his home. 

He changes his pace, getting faster and faster, but it’s not until he changes his aim that Harry jerks back and cries out. “Found it?” 

“Found it.” 

His arm is tired, his whole weight had been resting on it for a while now, and there’s sweat dripping down his face and chest, but the only thing he could care about was Harry. It feels fucking amazing to be inside of him, to be as physically close as he feels emotionally. His stomach is tightening with his approaching orgasm so he slows his pace slightly. Louis thrusts harder but slower, snapping his hips so hard into him that he moves up the bed with the force. 

Harry pulls him down into a heated kiss, rough and all tongue. He pulls out and Harry moves to straddle him. He raises up and lets himself be filled up by Louis once again. Sitting on his thighs, he rocks back and forth. Having Harry set the pace and be in complete control is fucking hot. He’s always been the type to want to be in control, in a lot of aspects but especially sex, but with how much he trusts Harry it’s almost hotter to let Harry have his way with him. 

Each time Harry rocks, he lets out a groan. It’s like he’s using Louis to get off and all Louis can do is let him. Harry has a hold on him, probably always will. 

His hands grip onto Louis’ arms, holding on as he picks up his pace. He’s practically bouncing, the sound of skin slapping against skin is loud and constant. Both of them are slick with sweat and Harry’s hair is almost drenched with it as it falls into his face. Louis takes a handful of it, pulling his head back. That only turns Harry on more, who groans loudly and urges Louis to do it again. 

“Like that do you?” 

Harry sinks completely down and stays there, his legs likely burning, “Fuck, yeah.” 

Louis thrusts up and Harry falls forward. Their lips connect for a moment until Louis does it again. He’s back in the driver’s seat and his hands are still tangled in Harry’s hair. He continues to pull at it, timing it with his thrusts to have the ultimate effect. With his free hand, he tugs at Harry’s cock. “I’m gonna fucking come,” Harry practically screams. 

“Good.” 

He picks up the pace, hand going at the same speed as his hips. It takes only a couple of pumps with his fist closed around his cock before Harry shudders and moans loudly up until the moment he actually comes. He goes silent then, mouth open and eyes shut. 

Harry looks fucking beautiful. 

There’s a tug deep in his gut that he ignores, not wanting this feeling to end. He’s transcended the regular plane of existence and is in the clouds. Higher and higher until he’s crashing down. 

Louis releases into the condom and pulls out, tugging off the latex and discarding it. He falls down on the bed next to Harry and he turns to him. They smile at each other tiredly. They’re both exhausted and sweaty and their breathing is labored but neither of them seem to care. Harry pulls Louis closer and presses a kiss into his sweat-drenched hair. 

He could be a bad cliche and confess his love after sex, but he stays quiet. Choosing to close his eyes and let Harry’s heartbeat guide him to sleep. This didn’t solve the ongoing issue of the future, but it’s certainly helped him to cement his relationship with Harry. Not that sex is the only thing about a relationship that matters, but it’s certainly an important element. One that he and Harry have no issue with apparently. 

“We’re good, right?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah, babe. We’re good.” 

Harry snuggles closer and wraps around him like an octopus. “You’re my home, Lou.” 

“You’re mine, too, H.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

They stop talking and Harry begins to snore, not loudly, and it’s more cute than annoying. He curls closer and presses a kiss to Harry’s temple. Harry makes him happy, that’s all that matters to him right now. 

He repeats his mantra a final time before slipping off to sleep: Louis Tomlinson is not a coward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and bookmarks and comments are honestly so appreciated. they keep me going for sure.


	7. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one month anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright sydney, im exhausted and trying pretty hard to come up with something witty so uh here goes: you're a thot <3  
> hope that makes u wanna go on a date with me on monday. 
> 
> some recommended songs to listen to during this chapter:  
> "No Control" by 1d  
> "The Louvre" by Lorde  
> "This Must Be My Dream" by The 1975  
> "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys  
> "Tattoos Together" by Lauv 
> 
> If nothing, listen to "I Wanna Be Yours" because louis and harry discuss it a bit during a scene and i want you to at least know what im talking about haha
> 
> and yh that's about it, enjoy!

Louis pulls off with an obscene pop and his eyes flit up to see the expression on Harry’s face. He always looks extra beautiful after he comes and Louis can’t get enough of it. Thinks he could get off purely on that look alone. His eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open and he’s loud, very _very_ loud, up until the moment he actually comes, where he goes silent. He’s always sweaty and his cheeks are a bright red, same as his chest, and his hair is all in his face. But even so, it’s Harry. Harry, coming undone because of what Louis can do with his mouth. So, he stares for a moment while the salty aftertaste lingers, proof of his first one month anniversary present to Harry. 

He crawls up so he can rest his head on Harry’s chest. “That was a nice wake-up.” 

“Figured you’d appreciate it, babe,” Louis jokes, peppering kisses along Harry’s shoulder. 

He had woken up first and gotten the idea when he noticed Harry also starting to wake up. Along with Harry’s cock, which was tenting the blankets. He had sleepily asked permission and received a vigorous head nod in response. It had led to a pretty amazing start to both their days. 

“Hope that’s not my only present?” 

Oh, it definitely is not. 

Louis scoffs. “Greedy one, you are.” Harry only laughs in response so he continues, “You have no idea what I have planned for you today.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” his voice is coated in sleep, even still, and it’s even deeper because of it and Louis is incredibly turned on by it. “You know, to actually do anything we have to get out of bed so,” he gestures and it’s Louis’ turn to fondly roll his eyes. “Breakfast and then more blowjobs.” 

“Could be a good song idea,” he jokes. 

“Breakfast & Blowjobs, the debut album by One Direction. I love it.” 

Louis takes that as a perfect opportunity to segway into something he’s been curious about for a while now. “What about your actual EP? Going well I hope.” 

The EP that Harry has been keeping suspiciously secret. He couldn’t even break Liam or Niall so he’s completely in the dark about it and it’s killing him. 

Harry pokes his side as he raises out of the bed. “Nice try, not telling you anything about it.” 

“Harrrrrryyyyy,” he drags out the name with a whine and his best attempt at puppy dog eyes. 

“Louis.” 

Louis pouts but takes the loss on the chin. “Fine, alright. Let’s talk about something else then… You’re still okay with going to the bar tonight?” 

Harry better be, or his whole plan is ruined and he’ll have to start from scratch. He crosses his fingers, he gets on his knees and prays, he debates kissing Niall because he’s the closest thing to a leprechaun he can think of. He needs this to work out and the first step is actually getting him to the place where everything's meant to happen. 

He shrugs and pulls on his shirt. “I mean, yeah. That’s like _our_ place. Plus, um, I may or may not have convinced Liam and Niall to do a special performance tonight.” 

Louis breathes an internal sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, it is kinda our place,” he agrees. “Maybe I can get the owner to sell it to me.” 

Harry shakes his head. “Tom? Hell no. That place is his baby,” he says the last part as he’s walking out the room and Louis pulls up his jeans and hops a bit to actually get into them. 

Louis gets the button done on his jeans and follows Harry out of the room. “Maybe you’re right, but you’re forgetting that I have something _very_ special.” It’s vaguely sexual, and his eyebrows wiggle suggestively as he says it. 

“And what would that be?” Harry asks, a fond look on his face. 

“My Tommo charm,” the “duh” at the end is implied. 

Harry throws his head, cackling loudly. “Sure, sunflower,” he messes up Louis’ hair even more and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Pancakes work?” 

Louis scoffs. “Do they work? They’re my favorite and you know that, stop playing dumb. Not a good look on you surprisingly.” 

“I’m offended.” At Louis' eye roll, he doubles down, “Really, I am. Here I’m standing trying to make sure me and my boyfriend’s one month goes perfectly and he’s insulting my looks.” 

He finds his breath hitching in his throat at Harry’s casual use of the word boyfriend. Because, oh my God, he wants to be his boyfriend so badly it hurts. 

“Boyfriend?” he says, trying his hardest to not stutter on the word as it slips off his tongue. 

“Oh, um, yeah? Sorry, I should’ve- Just forget-” 

Louis interrupts him by pressing their lips together. “I like the idea of being your boyfriend.” 

“Yeah?” Harry asks, his hands cupping Louis’ cheeks. 

Is he serious? Of course he wants to be his boyfriend. Who wouldn’t?

“Yeah, really,” he says reassuringly, “As long as you’re mine.” 

Harry’s head tilts slightly and their noses bump together as he leans in closer again, “I’ve always been yours, Lou.” 

Louis deletes the space between them finally, kissing him softly. His back is pressed against the kitchen counter and he hops onto it, wrapping his legs around Harry. They continue kissing, Louis leaning back and deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes at Harry’s bottom lip who parts them easily and lets Louis tangle their tongues. 

Harry pulls away suddenly, “Pancakes,” he manages. “Burning,” he kisses Louis again, a quick peck. “Check them.” 

He watches carefully as Harry flips them and turns the heat down. “Maybe we should-” he gestures at the table. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” Louis answers, sliding off and sliding into the chair Harry has pulled out for him. “Thanks, babe.” 

Harry smiles, kissing him again, and going back to watching the breakfast he’s making. It all feels so domestic, from the way they move around the kitchen with each other to the occasional pecks they share as they move from one task to another. He likes mornings like these, where he can wake up in Harry’s bed all wrapped around him and stare at his half-naked figure as Harry cooks whatever it is he’s got in his kitchen for breakfast. He’ll get up and Harry will hand him the loaf of bread without him needing to ask for it, and he’ll pop it into the toaster and lean against the counter to let the scent of pancakes or waffles or French toast fill his nostrils. It’s all so routine for them, and Louis allows his mind to wander. He feels that down the road when they hopefully move in together, every single morning will be one of these. 

And yeah, that’s a future he can get behind. 

Louis’ mouth is all saliva by the time Harry finally sets the plate of pancakes in the middle of the small kitchen table and he’s stabbing one with his fork to bring it to his own plate before Harry can get out his usual “they’re hot!” warning. There are chocolate chips in some of them, blueberries in others, a select few that are plain, and Harry made a special one with bananas for himself. Chocolate chips, which Louis and Harry both enjoy, and blueberry and banana which only Harry enjoys. And the plain ones are perfect for Louis to pile strawberries and whipped cream onto. Louis just has never been a blueberry person, not in muffins or pancakes or on their own, and Harry had picked up on that rather quickly. 

It’s the little details, the one-off facts that Louis will throw out thinking that Harry isn’t even listening, that Harry is good at remembering. All he needs to do is say he had one bad experience at Applebees and Harry won’t ever suggest that, not that he would anyway because Applebees is so bad that every restaurant should be burned to the ground immediately, but his point still stands. 

Louis might not be the best at the memory thing, but he is great at picking up on Harry’s non-verbal clues when they’re together. They’ll be out on one of their coffee dates and Harry’s eyes will linger on the raspberry danish for longer than normal and he’ll be surprised when Louis orders that exact thing when it’s finally their turn in the queue. It’s the way they’re able to communicate so effortlessly, without even being fully conscious they’re doing it, that fascinates Louis the most. He can’t remember ever having this with someone else. Zayn is the closest, and even then they were never on _this_ level. He and Harry just know what the other is thinking like their minds are connected and it’s almost freaky how in sync they are. 

He’s got a lot planned for Harry today and he’s holding his leg down to keep it from bouncing with the nerves. It’s all so reliant on his friends, and he trusts them completely, but there’s also a lot that could go wrong and Louis is a classic overthinker and oh God. 

This is going to be a long day. 

“Okay, what about this shirt?” Harry asks, holding up what feels like the tenth gray shirt that looks exactly the same as the last. 

Louis has tried explaining to Harry that he looks like a daydream in every single shirt, but he keeps frowning and putting them back, only to pick an identical one up a moment later. Repeat that for their whole trip and Louis is ready to strangle him, in a loving way of course. 

Louis just smiles and nods, murmuring a “looks good, babe” before wandering off to another section of the store. Harry’s right on his heels, face pouting slightly and he turns to face him. “Yes?” he asks with faux-innocence. 

“Louis, _come on,_ ” Harry urges, drawing out the words as his bottom lip sticks out. 

He rolls his eyes, grabbing the shirt from him to hold it against Harry’s chest. “It’s boring, but it’s not bad and it would hug your arms nice. Happy?” 

“Yes, very. Thank you,” his words drip with sarcasm. 

Louis sighs and wanders through the racks of clothes until a shirt catches his eye. It’s a floral pattern, but it’s black and sheer and it’s _Harry._ He picks one off, holding it up to assess it a final time before he finds a head of curly brown hair a couple of yards down. “You need this.” 

Harry runs his hands along it, holding it out and letting go, the garment floating back down to where it had been hanging off the plastic store hanger. “I have a million shirts just like this.” 

“So?” he answers. 

Yeah, he does have a million but Louis isn’t exactly complaining about that. They look marvelous on him. 

“So,” Harry starts, “I don’t need another one.” 

He disagrees on so many levels he’s not sure he can even get into them all. Harry should only wear shirts that look like this. I mean, Louis would rather him wear no shirt but that’s not exactly something he can do in every situation so, therefore, sheer button-ups. 

Louis pokes a finger out, outlining the birds hidden by Harry’s t-shirt, “You look good in them.” 

Harry looks unimpressed with the attempt and goes back to looking. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go find you a shirt that looks like something a substitute math teacher would wear instead of this,” he gestures, “which is something a rockstar would wear.” 

He snorts. “Louis, I can’t with you today- Substitute math teacher? Seriously?” 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

Simple, but effective. 

“Well…” 

Louis smirks. “You can’t.” 

He rolls his eyes, the fond smile still planted on his face. “I’ll get the shirt, Lou. Let’s find you something, too?” 

He nods and smiles to himself because he’s very excited to see Harry in this shirt, like way too excited. But he watches as Harry makes his way through the section, hands running along the racks until he spots something and waves Louis over. 

Louis doesn’t know what to expect when he turns the corner, but the sherpa-lined jean jacket was probably not it. It’s cute, incredibly so, and he wants it as soon as he sees it. It looks soft and comfortable while still fitting his style perfectly. He picks it up and Harry holds the items in his hand so he can slip his arms in and try it on. The soft fleece inside makes him feel warm instantly, which is more than appreciated in the freezing cold store, and it fits him well. Harry looks him over before they spot a mirror and he evaluates his appearance in the mirror for a moment longer than he normally would before turning to Harry and nodding. 

Harry understands instantly, because of course he does, and Louis slips the jacket back off so they can pay for it. They had agreed to pay for each other’s stuff, so Louis has the sheer shirt in his hand and Harry has the jacket and they chat in the checkout line until the lady calls Harry up. He pays and stands off to the side, leaning against the counter as Louis takes his turn. The lady, a middle-aged woman with these big red frames that make her eyes look huge, laughs at the two of them as they banter. 

“You two are so cute together.” 

His lips curl instantly and Harry’s are doing the same as he thanks her, both for checking them out and the compliment. “Must be the white shirt,” Louis jokes, pulling at the cotton t-shirt Harry had put on this morning. 

The lady politely smiles at the joke and they’re sent on their way with their bags. 

They had decided a day in Times Square would be a good idea for whatever reason, and Louis is instantly regretting that decision. It’s packed with people, tourists mostly. Everyone is walking on top of each other while some people stare up in amazement at the buildings, and others groan all annoyed at said people. He falls into the second category and he’s ready to knock people over because they keep stopping right in the middle of their path and it’s so frustrating. But Harry’s got his hand wrapped tightly around his and keeps squeezing it so he takes a deep breath and keeps walking. 

Times Square is too big and too bright and too loud and too crowded, but none of that matters when he has Harry by his side. 

They spot a Starbucks and manage to wrestle their way through the crowd and sigh when they see the line, which is almost out the door. Resigning themselves to their fate, they take their place in line and Harry takes out headphones so they can listen to music together as they wait. He plays a lot of things, ranging from NYSNC and Backstreet Boys to Red Hot Chili Peppers. There’s a lot he doesn’t recognize, some he does, but his favorite by far is an Arctic Monkeys tune. It’s slower and the lead singer’s voice is deep with a thick accent and despite the lyrics that feel like nonsense, it’s incredibly sexy. It’s one of his favorites, and he wonders if Harry had already known that or not. The chorus is the frontman repeating “I wanna be yours” and he mouths the words to Harry, which makes him giggle and garners them a few odd glances. 

Their drinks are made fast and made well, so he thanks the stressed-out barista and tosses a dollar into the tip jar. They make their way outside and find a seat that looks sort of clean. There are people surrounding them, but they just talk. Mostly about music, as Harry still has it playing in their ears. The two of them debate over the best Arctic Monkeys album (Louis thinks its Favourite Worst Nightmare, while Harry is more of an AM person) and somehow Louis gets Harry to play Green Day. Harry then admits maybe he had misjudged them and Louis feels weirdly smug about it. 

At some point, they head towards the subway because they’re expected at the bar at 7:30 to help set-up and they still have to bring everything they bought back to Harry’s and get ready. 

His mind has been occupied enough that he hasn’t been biting his nails with nerves over his plans for later, but now as they walk with the music still playing through their ears, he feels like he has no escape and he keeps yanking it back as it wanders. He’s decidedly done listening to his own thoughts and all he wants to do is get through this night without an issue. 

Louis just wants to make his boyfriend happy, is that too much to ask the universe? 

He holds Harry tightly in the crowded subway, both of them clinging to the overhead bar. Halfway through their ride, a group of guys enters the car with a speaker. People make space for them, already knowing what they’re about to do. They set out a bag for tips and music begins to fill the car. The guys start to dance, spinning on their heads and moving fluidly as though they were boneless. Louis watches on, claps along, and cheers when they end. The bag gets passed around and he and Harry each toss in a few dollars. 

A pregnant woman is standing next to them, so Louis looks around for an empty seat for her. Someone gets up as the train stops and just as he’s about to alert the woman with ankles the size of the moon, a thirty-something man in a suit sits down. “Hey, man. Mind letting her sit?” 

“Fuck off,” the guy spits. 

He and Harry exchange a look with each other, and then with the lady. She only shrugs and when the guy gets up on the next stop, which come the fuck _on_ dude, you sat down when you were only going to the next station over, do you know nothing about how the subway works?

But he and Harry corner off the seat so she can make her way too it. She thanks them profusely while another businessman frowns at them and Louis, ever the mature adult, just sticks his tongue out at him. One point for Louis and Harry, zero for grumpy suit guy. 

Harry makes conversation with the lady, asks when she’s due and if she knows what she’s having, seeming genuinely interested. It’s cute to watch him get excited when she tells Harry the baby just kicked and takes his hand so he can feel.

“I’m not feeling-” Harry’s face lights up like the Christmas tree when he feels the little foot kick at his hand. “Oh my God. She kicked me.” 

The lady laughs. “She’s a showoff, that kick was her hardest yet.” 

Louis can only smile fondly as he watches the scene unfold. “Do you have a name yet?” 

“Might name her after my mom, her name’s Anne.” 

Harry gasps. “That’s my mom’s name, too.” 

“Well, then. Seems meant to be,” Louis says, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

The lady smiles. “I think you might just be right… sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Louis,” he says, shaking her hand. 

“I’m Alex. It was nice meeting you both, really.” 

They smile at her, and then at each other. Harry’s all dimples and his eyes are _twinkling_ , which Louis didn’t even realize eyes could do. The lady gets up and thanks them again for getting her the seat and Harry smiles happily for the rest of the ride. 

* * *

As he opens up the door to the tattoo parlor, it strikes him how dumb this actually is. But he’s in too deep now and can’t find it in him to turn back, so he doesn’t.

“Is this stupid?” Harry asks. 

It’s probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done, and he once drank perfume thinking it was whiskey, so that’s saying something. 

“Definitely.” 

“You still want to do this?” 

Louis considers for a moment but in the end, yeah, he does. 

“Definitely.” 

They sit together at the little waiting area until a woman, with ink covering every inch of skin she has exposed, comes over to greet them. She takes down both of their names and sends them over to their tattoo artist, a man named Bryan with gauges in his ears and a bar through his nose, who greets them warmly and gestures for them to sit down in front of them. He’s got a bunch of pre-set designs but they’ve decided on an original, one they’ve already drawn up ahead of time. 

Harry goes first because he’s a wimp with pain and wants to get it over with. He leans back against the plastic-covered chair and lets Bryan take ahold of his arm, facing his wrist towards him. He asks another time if he’s sure about covering up the “I can’t change” printed neatly where the anchor is about to go, but Harry just nods surely and it’s the last time he asks before he’s wiping the skin down and pressing the needle into his skin. 

He flinches instantly, his face scrunching with pain, but bites his lip and holds impressively still. Louis holds his other hand and is surprised his own doesn’t break under the force that Harry is squeezing with. He kisses his temple as Bryan keeps going, the ink on the skin forming an impressive anchor. Harry blinks back his tears as he puts the finishing bits on the tattoo, and he realizes they’ve been sitting here for around two hours already. 

Bryan wraps the plastic and cotton and tape around the fresh tattoo and hands him instructions for cleaning and aftercare as Louis sinks into the chair next. 

His wrist is free from any previous ink, with a few tattoos surrounding it. He had been meaning to get a tattoo in that space anyway, so he’s glad he’s finally actually doing it. Bryan takes the alcohol-soaked wipe to his skin and once it’s sufficiently clean, he takes the gun to his skin. 

Similar to Harry, he flinches with the pain but he doesn’t squirm and holds on a little tighter to Harry. He watches as Bryan works, his eyes laser-focused on what he’s doing, and turns his head to smile at Harry. “You good?” 

“Yeah, H. I’ve gotten my fair share of tattoos in a lot of painful places, this is nothing.” 

Harry softens. “Alright, making sure.” 

He leans over to press a kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “Zayn just texted me asking where we were, what should I tell him?” 

“The truth, he won’t believe you but once we get there and he sees you were telling the truth…” he imagines the moment, the way Zayn’s eyebrows will be so far up his forehead they meet his hairline. “Oh, his face will be _priceless_.” 

Harry laughs before typing out the text. “You’re so right.” 

Louis turns back to his right arm where Bryan is finishing the rope, having turned his wrist over to finish that part of the design before going back and putting the last details on it. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he looks it over and he nods up at Louis when he asks, “All good?” He gives Louis the same aftercare instructions and after they pay, they’re sent on their merry way. 

And, oh my God, they just got matching fucking tattoos. After a month of dating. Oh fuck. 

* * *

Louis leans against the bar, observing the fresh ink on his wrist. He and Harry had taken the plastic wrap covering their new tattoos right before they had left. As they walked, the tattoos lined up. Rope and anchor. Complimentary, like them. 

Zayn stumbles over with Haley under his arm and he’s surprised for a moment to see she’s not behind the bar. There’s a guy in her usual place, clad in a white button-up and an apron tied around his waist, a rag tossed over his shoulder as he chats with some of the female patrons. He rolls his eyes at the scene, “He looks like an ass.” 

Haley giggles. “He is, but he’s not bad to look at.” 

“You know who is also not bad to look at?” Zayn muses, “Niall.” 

She elbows his ribs. “Would you _stop_?” 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

He turns away from his friends in an attempt to hide the tattoo. Zayn, ever the perceptive dickhead, notices instantly. “What’s up, Lou? Just nerves?” 

“What?” he says dismissively, his voice raising an octave, “I’m fine.” 

They both eye him like they know he’s lying. “Okay, I’m just- This is a lot, y’know? I’m a film guy, not a music guy.” 

“I’m a music major but I bartend every weekend, I’m great at both. Just like you,” she grabs his shoulders to massage the stress out of them, “are going to be great at this.” 

“And hey, even if you’re not, Harry’s still going to be in awe of the fact that you even did it all.” 

He leans into Haley’s touch. “You’re right, I know. Thank you guys, seriously.” 

“Anytime, Lou. You know that,” Zayn says, his eyes falling down to the wrist Louis is turning away from him. “Louis, was Harry not kidding when he told me what you were doing earlier?” 

“Um…” his face gives him away, a rosy tint spreading from his ears to his neck. 

“What did Harry say they were doing earlier?” Haley asks, her face shrouded in confusion. 

He doesn’t meet Zayn’s gaze, he simply holds his arm out, hoping that answers both of their questions. 

Haley moves to touch it but her arm is pulled back by Zayn. “No, you don’t touch fresh tattoos.” 

She nods, pulling her hand back, and smirks at Louis. “So what? Does Harry have the same one?” 

“An anchor,” he manages to get out. 

Zayn exchanges a look with Haley that Louis can’t decipher. “You’re an idiot,” he finally says. 

“I’m well aware, thank you.”

He looks around the bar until he spots Harry and the other boys bringing their equipment in. Harry’s got his new shirt on and barely buttoned, it opens more and more as he walks towards the stage with his guitar slung over his shoulder and a mic stand in his hand. His eyes catch Louis’ and his face immediately lights up in a smile. 

Louis smiles back, openly staring because it's his boyfriend and he can, before turning back to order a drink from the douchey bartender guy. A beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, he makes his way over to Harry who’s helping Liam with the drums. “Hey, babe. Liam,” he greets. 

“Hey,” he takes the bottle of water. “Thank you for this,” he lands a peck to the corner of his mouth, “and that too.” 

He giggles at the dumb joke, it’s hard not to when Harry’s just kissed him. “So, you excited for the show tonight?” 

“Very, very excited. I’ve got a new song to play for you.” 

“Yeah?” Louis questions. “I’ve got a song for you, too.” 

Harry laughs, slinging his arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. “I’m sure.” 

“No, really,” at Harry’s unimpressed face he continues, “You’ll see.” 

“Go take your seat, Niall’s walking over here so we’ll be starting in five.” 

He pouts, not wanting to leave the embrace. “Fine, have fun up there, babe.” 

Harry kisses him again before letting him go from under his arms, “I’ll talk to you after the show.” 

Louis walks back to their table and watches as Harry adjusts the mic stand a final time before he switches it on and starts speaking to the crowd. “Hi, everyone. I’m Harry, as some of you know. Liam’s on drums and Niall’s on guitar, we’re One Direction. We play every Friday usually but tonight is special. It’s, um, it’s my one month anniversary with that idiot sitting over there,” he points to Louis, whose smile is brighter than the lights shining on him, “And so we’re doing a show tonight because this is, uh, our place. Sort of. We met here, and yeah, okay, let’s start the first song. This is Stockholm Syndrome.” 

He grips the mic stand the way he always does when he sings this song, His voice starts off the song, it’s huskier and dark, but Louis is sure this is the best he’s heard it. Harry keeps pointing to him and Niall lets him sing the “yeah, I fell for you” in his solo and he dances around the stage happily while the crowd bops their head along to it. 

There are a few people who keep turning their backs to look at Louis. It’s off-putting until he remembers part of his present to Harry is getting on the stage where everyone will definitely be looking at him, so he opts for ignoring the lingering stares and watches Harry. 

Harry looks almost inhuman, his skin is glowing under the lights and his eyes are a shade of green visible even from here. The shirt Louis had picked out hangs open and he makes no attempts to remedy it whatsoever, choosing to let his chest be exposed. It’s so low the butterfly is halfway out and Louis’ eyes haven’t faltered from it. The swallows glisten with sweat as he goes through the set. 

He winds down, first with a slower song that Louis has heard before but isn’t sure of the title but it’s not until he starts speaking again that he realizes Harry wasn’t kidding about singing a new song tonight. “Alright, everyone, this is the last song. It’s brand new, and it’s, uh, it’s for you, Lou. Hope you like it,” they share a private smile. “Hope you all enjoy it.” 

Liam sits up on his stool and starts the song off with a simple beat. Niall’s sitting behind a keyboard and they all nod at each other silently before he’s also coming in. “ _Sunflower,”_ Harry starts, eyes not wavering from Louis. 

“ _Sunflower, my eyes want you more than a melody,_

_Let me inside, wish I could get to know ya_

_Sunflowers, sometimes, keep it sweet in your memory”_

It’s fun and upbeat but the choice to use sunflower as a substitute for his name has him ready to cry, the tears would be happy, but there would be tears nonetheless. They had taken to calling one another sunshine, but it wasn’t until they had been out and passed a florist shop that the pet name “sunflower” had stuck. Outside of the shop were these big, tall sunflowers lining the exterior. They were bold and bright, Harry had likened them to Louis. The rest of their day out, he had called him that, asking him “where would you like to eat, sunflower?” and saying things like “this would look good on you, sunflower” without a thought. It had stuck, and Louis had grown accustomed to hearing Harry call him it but to hear him sing a whole song where he swaps his name for it? It has him ready to melt into a pile of mush. 

“ _I was just tongue-tied,_

_I don’t want to make you feel bad but_

_I’ve been trying hard not to talk to you,_

_My Sunflower, Sunflower”_

He remembers the period before they had acknowledged their feelings for each other. It had been a lot of cautious flirting, with touches so light they could be mistaken for figments of the imagination. Harry had, for the most part, avoided talking to him if he could in their groups. There were the times, mostly when both of them had alcohol, that they would talk. Like the bar and Harry’s party, but when both of them were completely sober they were able to push the feelings down. 

“ _I couldn’t want you anymore,_

_Kiss in the kitchen like its a dancefloor_

_I couldn’t want you anymore,_

_Tonight, tonight, tonight”_

He laughs and watches as Harry’s smile grows bigger. The song is so incredibly sweet, packed with so many fond memories, that he’s having a hard time even imagining a time when he wasn’t with Harry. He thinks back to how he was a month ago, scared and afraid of heartbreak, and he thinks to now, happy and in love. 

In love. He loves Harry. He wants to tell Harry that. 

“ _Wondering headshake,_

_Tired eyes are the death of me_

_Mouthful of toothpaste_

_Before I got to know ya”_

He had spent almost every night at Harry’s place since they had begun dating. Not consciously, or anything, but he hadn’t wanted to leave and Harry hadn’t made any indication he wanted him to leave either. They had got so wrapped up in this, in them, that he hadn’t noticed they had practically moved in together before Louis had even learned what Harry’s middle name was. 

“ _I’ve got your face_

_Hung up high in the gallery_

_Out of this shade, Sunflower_

_Sunflower”_

He loves Harry. He loves him. He loves everything about him. 

The song continues, Louis having to physically restrain himself to keep from running into Harry’s arms once it ends. He walks up, knowing full well every eye is on him, and kisses Harry. On stage. In front of a crowd of bar patrons who he doesn’t know. He kisses Harry Styles. And, my God does it feel fucking amazing. 

He pulls back, his forehead resting against Harry’s, “I’m so in love with you.” 

“I love you, too,” Harry says, pressing their lips together again. 

He hears a loud “whoop” from the table where he left Haley and Zayn, and he turns to look at them. They laugh at each other and continue cheering until Harry starts to wave them off. He gets off stage, expecting Louis to follow, and is surprised when he stays up there. Liam and Niall are still in place and he nods at both of them. “So, um, I sort of… wrote you a song?” 

“Louis…” Harry begins. 

He shakes his head, signaling for him to start before he even begins. “So, now we’re gonna sing it? Yeah, we’re going to sing it so just sit down and let me do this before I faint or my heart gives out or something, okay?” 

“Okay, yeah, wow,” Harry says, taking a seat. 

Louis grips the microphone, it’s a foreign experience. Standing on a stage, knowing that he’s got an audience, every word being broadcast to the whole bar. It’s frightening, extremely frightening, but he figures that if Harry can do this every Friday night he can do it for a single song. 

He can do this, really he can. 

Niall starts to play, and so does Liam, and then Liam and Niall start to sing. They had offered to take the first verse and split it between them, allow Louis a buffer period to gain his courage before the pre-chorus. They had reassured him more than once that he would do great, his voice was great and the song was incredible, so as he moves closer and opens his mouth, the sound that falls from his lips is still shaky and filled with nerves, but it’s not bad. 

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry, who’s smiling and silently reassuring him as he sings. The chorus is all three of them, until the final part where it’s Louis alone. His voice is confident when he sings it, enjoying this feeling more than he ever thought possible. 

_“I’ll make this feel like home_

_I’ll make this feel like home”_

Harry simply mouths “baby we could be enough” in response. 

The song ends, to loud applause from the audience he had forgotten was even there, and Harry’s rushing up the same way Louis had. They kiss again, this time unphased by their friends who cheer and shout things like “get a room!” and “leave space for Jesus!”, and he doesn’t want to pull away even for air. 

He wants to drown in Harry Styles. What a way to go that would be. 

The six of them sit back at the table and a few moments later Liam’s waving over a brunette with a sleek black jumpsuit on. Harry jumps up to hug her, before Liam can even get a “hello” in, and brings her over to Louis and Zayn. “Soph, this is Zayn and this is my boyfriend, Louis.”

Louis smiles politely. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” she answers, her British accent immediately throwing him off. 

Zayn shakes her hand. “Was beginning to think Li made you up.” 

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, don’t blame you. I have been _way_ too busy these last few weeks.” 

Haley pats the seat next to her and Liam sighs in defeat, his girlfriend is a hot commodity apparently. “I’ve missed you so much, seriously.” 

“Missed you too, Hales.” 

As the table catches up with Sophia, and Zayn gets to know her better, Louis can only focus on Harry. He had tried, honestly, he did, to listen as she recalled a shoot a few weekends ago that had been very long and very tiring, but his eyes kept falling to Harry. 

Harry, who had his warm hand planted firmly on his thigh and kept squeezing it before moving it higher. Repeat that until his thumb was a mere inch from making clothed contact with his semi and Louis could hardly be blamed for his inability to focus. 

Louis keeps shooting warning glances at him, even grabs his hand, but Harry isn’t deterred. He palms him under the table, and Louis loses any ability to think. He taps his fingers against the table and gets up, rushing to the bathroom. He was _so_ going to kill Harry for this. 

As if summoned, Harry opens the door a moment later. “Harry, seriously, wha-” 

He kisses him roughly, pinning his back against the bathroom counter. Louis is still for a moment before he comes to and kisses him back. His arms wind around Harry’s neck, pulling him down and closer. Harry’s hands grip the back of his thighs and lift, setting him on the counter. 

It’s not his first time hooking up in a bathroom, but it is the first time there’s been this much kissing and build-up beforehand. Normally he would dance with a guy for a song or two before dragging him to the toilets for a messy blowjob. But never has he done this. This is just as heated, but it’s got actual passion and feelings behind it. It’s in every touch, every kiss, every movement. And it’s downright electric. 

Harry’s fingers find his zipper, pulling his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free. It’s already hard and leaking, but Harry just grips it and his mouth closes around the head, tongue swirling for a moment before he takes Louis down into his throat as far as he can go. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Louis whines. 

Harry pulls off just enough to speak, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the tip of Louis’ cock. “Love you more, Sunflower.” 

His mouth falls open and he bites his lip a moment later to keep from making too much noise. He’s still letting out whimpers and whines as Harry continues going down on him, not stopping even as Louis whispers loudly that’s about to come. He swallows, moans like he enjoys the taste, and then kisses Louis’ jaw while Louis rides the high of his orgasm. 

Louis knows if he tried to walk or stand, he would wobble over like a baby deer, so he stays perched on the counter with Harry’s face planted in his neck. “Fuck, you’re good at that.” 

“I know,” Harry says smugly. 

He splashes water as his face and hops off the sink, kissing Harry again. They unlock the door and stand by the bar, out of their friend’s view. Douchey bartender guy hands him a beer and hands Harry a vodka cranberry. 

Their friends barely even noticed they were gone, except for Zayn because he apparently knows everything. “So… what took you guys so long to get drinks?” 

Louis shrugs dismissively, “We weren’t gone that long.” 

“47 minutes is a while to wait for two drinks.” 

Zayn fucking timed him. Of course he did. 

He can feel his cheeks heat but chooses to ignore it. “New bartender, he kinda sucks.” 

“He’s not the only one…” Zayn jokes. 

It earns him a slap on the arm from Louis. “It’s our anniversary, would you fuck off for just one night?” 

Zayn holds his hands up. “Fine. Fine. But I’m still telling Haley.” 

“No, you are not-” 

He’s interrupted by his phone beeping at him, and then Zayn’s phone does the same. Their friends must pick up on the fact that notifications were almost in sync because they stop talking for a moment to ask them what it’s about and Haley even offers an innocent, “Is that about the movie?” 

“What?” he says, reading it finally, and yes it is, “Um, yeah. I should…” he trails off and gestures for Zayn to follow him outside. 

They make their way out, Louis sparing a glance towards Harry who is still sitting in his seat with a thoughtful expression on his face. 

He and Zayn lean against the brick wall. “We’re done filming this week.” 

“This is good news, Lou. We finally don’t have to work with that asshat.” 

He bites his lip. “We have to go home now.” 

“Louis, no, we don’t have to.” 

“What don’t you have to do?” Harry asks. 

Louis whips around, Harry apparently having chosen to follow them out. He pleads with Zayn to shut his mouth silently, but it doesn’t work. “Filming is done this week. Louis thinks that means we have to go back to LA. But,” he turns back to Louis, “we _don’t.”_

“You’re going back? Seriously, Louis?” and he looks, and sounds, hurt. 

“Harry, no-” 

He interrupts. “No. I thought you had- I thought you were staying. And now you’re telling me you had planned on doing just the opposite.” 

Louis wants to say something, but can’t. 

“And to make matters even fucking worse, you weren’t even planning on talking about with me. Your boyfriend, if you forgot. Because what? You’re not serious about this? I mean, is this just a fucking fling to you?” the words are dripping with venom as they fall from Harry’s lips. 

He looks down at his shoes, kicking a loose stone. “I was- I am planning on talking about this with you. I just thought we had more time but we don’t and I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what I want or what I want to do and I just want to go back to your place and cuddle with you and have you tell me everything will be okay because it doesn’t feel okay. None of this feels okay. I’m serious about this, I am, okay? But we both knew that this would have to end like this.” 

“Okay,” Harry says finally, “Okay.” 

Harry turns on his heel and walks back into the bar, Zayn following close behind, leaving a shell-shocked Louis to lean against the brick wall by himself. He slides down it, his knees coming up to his chest. 

The word rings out in his head, _okay._


	8. If I Could Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SYDNEYYYYYYYY, you know how much i appreciate you and everything you do. you're the harry to my louis. miss you. 
> 
> SONGS FOR THIS CHAPTER (THE FINAL ONE WOOOHOOO): 
> 
> "Spaces" by 1d   
> "There You Are" by Zayn  
> "Canyon Moon" by Harry   
> "Always You" by Louis   
> "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd   
> "My Old Man" by Joni Mitchell 
> 
> i really hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. there will be an epilogue!!!!

Louis starts packing the second he gets through his bedroom door. He’s already booked a plane ticket, managed to snag one for fairly cheap, and he’s leaving first thing in the morning. 

He’s leaving. 

He’s leaving New York. He’s leaving his friends. He’s leaving his boyfriend... if he can even call him that anymore. But God, right now is not the time for that. He’s going back to LA, headed home in just a few hours. Well, not home. 

Home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling, or in Louis’ case, it’s a person. 

But he has to go back. He has to. Louis continues repeating this to himself as he packs. He folds the shirt he was wearing when he met Harry, the ripped jeans he wore to his party, the shirt he wore when they had their first kiss. The sherpa-lined jacket is taunting him from its bag, daring him to pick it up and place it in the suitcase. 

He trudges over, opening the bag with fingers he didn’t even realize were shaking and looks inside. It’s still as perfect as it had been early today, but he has to swallow harshly to rid his throat of the lump forming. The jacket has been tainted. What once was a thoughtful anniversary present of sorts has now become a symbol of what he’s lost. 

Louis is trying to remember everything, giving his room and the rest of the apartment a quick once-over before zipping up his suitcase and placing it by the door. He sits down on his bed, really taking everything in for a moment.

Taking in the enormous decision he’s made. The decision he’s making. 

It’s one of those decisions that could completely alter your life path, does he stay or go? Choosing stay means losing his career. Choosing to go means losing Harry. Both things are important to him, equally so, and God, why the  _ fuck  _ did he have to go and make everything so complicated? This was supposed to be a few months of filming another movie and eating genuine NY pizzas and site-seeing. This was  _ not  _ supposed to happen. Harry was not supposed to happen. Because now, instead of leaving New York with good memories of Ellis fucking Island, he’s leaving with a broken heart. And, fuck. This! This is why he didn’t want to start anything with Harry in the first place. All of this could have been prevented if he hadn’t gone to his place that day. If he hadn’t let Zayn get in his head. If he hadn’t gone into that stupid fucking dive bar that night. All of this pain, both his and Harry’s, could’ve been prevented. 

He feels like screaming and ripping his hair out and punching a wall, but he continues to sit. His eyes haven’t left the wall he’s facing and he barely registers the way his stomach is knotting up unpleasantly. Louis is equal parts numb and not, every cell in his body churning uncomfortably while his brain tries to pretend nothing is wrong. He isn’t sure which is winning. In his opinion, Louis is the one who’s currently losing.

When he hears Zayn come in, he snaps back into reality. His limbs feel wobbly like he’s learning to walk all over again, and his suitcase trails behind him. Sweats and easily removable shoes on his person, and a guilty look on his face, he walks out into the living room. 

Zayn looks him up and down, lingering on his suitcase. He’s got his best poker face plastered on, so Louis has no clue how he’s feeling about it. But he already thinks he has a decent idea, no words or disappointed head shakes needed. 

He doesn’t speak, simply moves towards Louis and wraps his arms around him. It takes a moment for Louis to register that Zayn is hugging him, but once he does he reciprocates the embrace and holds Zayn tight. They’re saying everything they need to without needing to say it. He’s glad he has someone like Zayn. Had. 

Zayn’s staying. And, wow, he’s about to lose his best friend and boyfriend all in one go. But, no. He’s not thinking about that.

He squeezes Zayn tighter and breathes in the smell of his cologne, which is mostly gone, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. It grounds him, the way a tether would keep an astronaut from floating off into the unknown. They stay like that for longer than they ever have, until Zayn pulls back and gives him a tight-lipped smile, eyes devoid of any emotion. 

“You’ll miss your flight, Lou.” 

His hand fumbles for the handle of his suitcase. “Y-yeah. I’ll, um… see you?” 

Louis and Zayn both know the statement is empty. 

“Have a safe flight back to LA,” Zayn says, with all the finality of a goodbye. 

Because that’s what it is, a goodbye. Not a “see you later” or a “see you in a few weeks,” it’s an “I don’t know when I’m going to see you again” and Louis doesn’t know how to feel about it. 

But Zayn’s made his choice, so has he. 

He gives him a curt nod as he walks towards the door, sparing a glance behind him once he gets to the door. Zayn’s where he left him, eyes pleading with him to stay while his mouth stays closed. Louis turns back around and he walks out. 

Out of New York. Out of his friends’ lives. Out of his boyfriend’s life… if he can even call him that. 

He goes out the same way he came in, filled with immense trepidation about where he’s going. The sound of his suitcase’s wheels against the pavement keeps going, allows him to keep walking in a direction he’s unsure about. Every person he passes, he sees Harry. Subconsciously, he’s looking for a sign. But there isn’t a big red billboard yelling at him “TURN AROUND AND GO BACK YOU IDIOT” so he continues walking. 

And walking. And, yes, even more walking.

Never before had walking been this difficult. It’s like each step takes more energy than the last, and by the time the automatic doors slide open, and he sees all the desks with signs saying various airline names above them, his stomach twists. There’s bile clawing its way up his throat but he swallows, taking a step forward and not looking back. He won’t look back. Harry didn’t look back, why should he? 

Harry didn’t look back. Fuck, he had almost forgotten about that. 

But, no. No no no no no no no. He is  _ not  _ going to think about Harry fucking Styles right now. He’s going to think about how much he hates airports and people and the TSA. But not Harry. Not right now. Not when he’s about to get on a plane to leave New York in a little over two hours given everything goes according to plan. 

Louis puts one foot in front of the other, watches himself do it, but it doesn’t feel real. None of this does. It’s a bit like the feeling you get walking out of an amusement park. Your stomach still swirling from the rides and your fingers sticky with cotton candy and other overpriced treats. You pass through the gift shop, fingers brushing against the clothes and workers smiling politely, daring you to buy something. But it all feels surreal, like you had made up the whole day in your imagination, and walking out is you waking up. That’s how Louis feels, like he made up this whole trip and his friends and Harry, and the second he walked into the airport he was awoken by his alarm. Because no fucking way someone like Harry Styles is real. 

And, fuck. He said he wouldn’t think about Harry anymore. Okay, that’s it. That’s the last thought he’s going to think about Harry Styles and that’s final… hopefully. 

There are little machines set around for him to print off his ticket without needing to even talk to another human, which is equal parts bad and good, and in his current state, he’s leaning towards good. He puts the little sticker on his bag and brings up to the lady who weighs it and places it on the conveyer belt. It disappears behind big rubber flaps and he almost sighs with something (relief maybe?) and he goes to sit next to his terminal after he gets through security. The lady complimented his socks, they were pink with little rubber duckies all over them, and it made him smile, small but genuine. 

He stares out the giant glass windows overlooking the landing strip. It’s fascinating to watch as the planes, these big metal objects, take off into  _ flight _ . Louis is more than aware that there’s a lot of physics and aerodynamics to explain how it works, but right now he’s too tired to think and his only thoughts are that that should be impossible. But, it’s not. I mean clearly, it’s not. Just as his mind begins to wander to Harry and all the reasons him existing is impossible, but he stops it. It’s done. He’s not going back. He won’t go back. 

Louis isn’t even convincing himself. 

His whole body feels heavy, weighed down as though someone was perched upon his shoulders, and his leg aches from the incessant bouncing. It feels as though he’s underwater and high up in the atmosphere at the same time, the common denominator being he can’t breathe. Louis feels like he’s suffocating, his lungs unable to get any oxygen as though its right out of reach. His chest expands and falls, signaling that he is getting air to his respiratory system, but he can’t feel it. He can’t feel anything. 

Louis tears his eyes from the runway and looks around the airport. There are these big long strips of seats for people to sit on, black leather and shiny metal armrests, and there’s a person in almost every one. It’s early in the morning, apparently primetime for flights, and most people are curled up in their seats with their heads down. Other people have their headphones in, staring straight ahead while they listen to music. One person even has an actual book out. Louis looks down at his own hands, which are devoid of any object, and realizes how odd he must look. He’s simply people watching without a thing in his hands or ears because that’s where he’s at in life apparently. 

He digs headphones out of his carry-on and unlocks his phone. He’s got a single text from Zayn (odd) and a single text from Haley, both attaching the same link. A link to an EP.  _ One Direction’s _ EP. His breath hitches in his throat the second he reads it. It’s as though he’s now at a fork in the road: does he listen or does he not? 

Louis chooses to listen. 

He presses  [ play ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7sHmLb6kV8LOn0ustA8CYx?si=WooBpLjkT6CCXJR527l1nA) on the EP, and the first song begins. It’s Midnight Memories, a song he remembers them playing a few times. It’s a good start and Harry’s voice sounds amazing on it, but when doesn’t Harry’s voice sound amazing? 

The next song is Temporary Fix, and Niall opens the track. The group vocals sound well mixed like they took great care in making sure they were stacked properly and the volume was at the appropriate levels. Harry must be playing with his tone in the second verse because his voice is deep and bordering on dark the whole time. And it’s sexy. So fucking sexy. 

When Sunflower, Vol. 6 starts, Louis loses it. Harry is the only one who sings the whole song and his voice is full of emotion, mostly happiness but there’s a tinge of sadness in it. It brings back all the same memories it had the first time he heard it, but instead of putting a smile on his face, they make him want to rip his hair out. He doesn’t ever want to see a Sunflower by the end of the song. 

Adore You, the song Louis had helped him finish the day they had gotten together, is next. A song that had once made him want to get up and dance has him on the verge of tears in the middle of an airport. Why did he have to meet Harry Styles? Harry sounds like he’s smiling while singing with how happy it is, especially the chorus. Backed by this fun and upbeat instrumental and light and airy backup vocals that sound like the clouds. It’s so happy. Harry was so happy. 

But the next song is proof that he’s not anymore. It’s titled If I Could Fly and Louis doesn’t remember ever hearing it. It begins with piano and nothing else until Harry takes a breathe and comes in. It’s not just the piano that makes it a sad song, it’s the lyrics. 

“ _ If I could fly,  _

_ I’d be coming right back home to you _

_ I think I might  _

_ Give up everything, just ask me to”  _

And how fucking  _ dare  _ he? 

_ “Pay attention _

_ I hope that you listen  _

_ Cause I let my guard down  _

_ Right now I’m completely defenceless”  _

He’s paying attention that’s for sure. How could he not with lyrics like these? 

“ _ For your eyes only,  _

_ I’d show you my heart  _

_ For when you’re lonely  _

_ And forget who you are”  _

Louis can’t feel his limbs, his brain sending signals to them to move but they won’t respond. He can’t feel anything. Louis isn’t sure he wants to. 

_ “I’m missing half of me, _

_ When we’re apart  _

_ Now you know me,  _

_ For your eyes only”  _

He wants to fly home to him. He wants to go back. He wants Harry. He wants… 

His thoughts get interrupted by one of the workers announcing that his flight is now boarding. This is it. This is when he makes the decision. Does he stay or go? 

Louis chooses to look down at his boarding pass, indicating he’s in group B. Group A gets called, they queue up and smile politely as their tickets get checked and head off towards the plane. People are chatting amongst the people they’re flying with and others are tapping their feet impatiently but the line moves and keeps moving. The last person from Group A heads off and Louis’ stomach plummets immediately. 

There’s a big announcement for Group B to start queuing, he’s in group B32 so he goes to stand under that number. He stands in the line, his mind in a million places all at once. It’s bouncing from the bar to his apartment in New York to his apartment in Los Angeles to Harry’s apartment, before it settles on the lady behind the desk who scans his ticket and sends him off. He swallows harshly, gives her an obviously forced smile and he puts his left foot forward. 

And then his right foot. 

And then his left foot. 

The jet bridge has grey carpets and grey walls, everything blending together like he’s going through a tunnel. It’s almost disorienting, but that might be a side-effect of his lack of sleep and ongoing emotional crisis. There are rows and rows of blue seats that go to the back of the plane. He looks for an open aisle to slide into, hoping for a window seat. Louis finds an empty row near the back of the plane, his prayers being answered. At least the universe listened this time. There’s not much to look at outside, only the other planes and the big cart full of their luggage. He watches as the workers load the suitcases in and sees if he can find his (he couldn’t) and he barely acknowledges the other person who sits down next to him. 

Said person sits quietly enough, tapping on their thighs like they’re nervous, and when Louis finally turns he notices its a teenage boy. His phone is sitting on his lap face down and he’s only got one earbud in, so Louis makes a quick comment, “First time on a plane, man?” 

The boy laughs breathily. “That obvious?” 

He smiles in return, “A bit,” he holds out his pack of gum. “Gum?” 

“Oh, um-” 

“It’s for your ears, they won’t pop as badly if you chew gum while we take off.” 

The boy smiles sheepishly and takes the offered piece. “Thanks.” 

“No problem. You know, my mate, Zayn, his first time on a plane I told him it does a loopty loop in the air. Spent the whole first part of the flight terrified before he realized I was fucking with ‘em,” there’s a lightness to his words, a nice change from the gloomy tone of his inner monologue. 

The boy laughs and Louis can see the tension leaving his shoulders. “Should I be wary about taking this gum, then?” he jokes. 

Louis smiles, taking his own piece from the pack and popping it in his mouth. “Nope, the gum thing’s a real trick. You have my word.” 

His hands stop tapping on his thighs. “Okay, yeah. Yeah.” 

“I’m Louis by the way,” he offers. 

“I’m Ryan,” he says. “Thanks for being so nice to me.” 

“Everyone’s a little nervous their first time on a plane. Wish someone would have told me about the gum thing, to be honest. This part--waiting to actually take-off--is probably the worst part of the flight.” 

“Not the actual take-off?” Ryan questions. 

Louis shrugs. “It’s not too bad if I’m honest. Your stomach will feel a little weird but once we’re at the proper elevation you’ll be fine. It’s just the waiting. Never was good at dealing with that myself. The anticipation-” he’s about to keep going when a phrase pops into his head. 

The Anticipation of Loss. 

He swallows, “The anticipation is probably the worst part.” 

“How’s landing?” 

“Depends on the pilot, I’ve had good landings and I’ve had bad,” he glances out the window and continues, “I’m assuming you’re going to LA for vacation?” 

Ryan nods. “My cousin moved out of there for college last year and he invited me to stay with him for the week since I’ve never been out to the west coast. You?” 

Louis hesitates. “I live there. Was just in New York for work.” 

That must intrigue Ryan because his head quirks to the side. “What do you do?” 

“I’m a cameraman. My best mate just happened to get us a job out here for a couple of months.” 

“Zayn?” 

“Zayn, yeah. We met in film school,”  _ and _ were best friends for years afterward but not anymore because Louis is an idiot. “So… where’s your cousin going?” 

“UCLA.” 

Louis lights up. “That’s my alma mater. It’s a great school. Does he like it so far?” 

Ryan laughs at Louis’ excitement. “Yeah, honestly. He loves it.” 

“It’s a great school, really. Still surprised I got in, honestly,” Louis admits, his words laced with laughter. “And LA is… it’s a good city. Better than St. Louis, that’s for sure.” 

“Is it better than New York?” Ryan asks innocently. 

And,  _ fuck _ . That’s all it takes for Louis to realize he is a grade-A dumbass. Because fuck no. It’s not even close. Los Angeles might have beaches and nice weather year-round and space, but it doesn’t have Harry. It doesn’t have the boy he’s madly in love with. 

“N-no, it’s… it’s not,” he answers finally. 

They shift into silence, but Louis’ mind is anything but. Is he making a mistake? Is this the big rom-com moment where he gets off the plane and runs through the streets of New York to find Harry and tell him he loves him? Does he get off the plane? 

No. No, this is real life. Not a rom-com or a 90s TV show. He’s not Rachel and Harry is not Ross. He is going to sit in his seat, revel in the fact that he still has legroom even in economy, and he’s going to go home… well, not home. But, his point stands. He’s not getting off the plane. He won’t. Louis will not get off this plane.

He wants to get off the plane. 

Louis goes to unbuckle his seatbelt, climbing over Ryan and the lady in the aisle seat, when a flight attendant rushes over. “Sir! You can’t be out of your seat.” 

“But I need to get off this plane. Right now.” 

The flight attendant gives her best “please don’t make my job any harder, asshole” smile. “Sir, you need to sit down. We aren’t able to let you off. We’ll be landing in Denver for a connecting flight and you can get off there. I’m sorry, please sit down, sir.” 

Louis feels like his knees will give out at any minute, but he makes it back to his seat and slumps into it. He wants to fall through the floor of this plane onto the runway below. All he wants is to get off this stupid thing. He wants Harry. 

Louis wants to have his big rom-com moment where he leaps into Harry’s arms, but he’s stuck on a stupid airplane headed to the opposite coast. 

He sighs, leaning his head back completely and closing his eyes. Maybe this is a sign. He and Harry just aren’t meant to be. They had a good time together and now they’re done. That chapter of his life is closed now, and he’s ready to flip to the next one. 

Ryan must sense he doesn’t want to do much talking anymore because he doesn’t initiate any other conversation. He’s half grateful because he honestly doesn’t know how good any conversation with him would be at the moment, and half hoping Ryan tries to strike one up purely because he needs a distraction from his own thoughts. 

Louis flips his phone off, mostly so he doesn’t listen to the EP on loop until they land, and decides to tune in to the in-flight movie. It’s nothing good, some shitty rom-com that he thinks he may have seen before, but he watches anyway. Well, watches is a strong word, his eyes stay focused on it but his mind is not paying attention to the storyline or the characters or anything really. Physically he’s on a plane to Los Angeles, but mentally? Mentally he’s curled up with Harry in bed watching Friends reruns while being lulled to sleep by the thump of his heart. 

They’re level with the clouds now, the plane hovering just above them. The sun’s starting to rise now, the sky fused pinks and yellows as the dark of night leaves it. He shuts his eyes again, head resting against the cool glass window, and tries to fall asleep. He had gone straight from the bar to his apartment to the airport, so he’s dead tired. It only takes a matter of minutes before he’s out, no doubt his dreams are going to be filled with Harry. 

* * *

Louis is startled awake by turbulence. His head bangs against the glass and he can’t remember where he is for a moment too long. His eyes feel sore and his legs are cramping, and the shake of the big metal tube that’s currently thousands of feet above the ground isn’t helping the pit of nausea that’s churning in his stomach currently. He checks to see how much longer they have until Denver and is pleasantly surprised to see it’s only 20 minutes. The plane’s lower now, so he can make out the shapes of houses and other things on the ground. 

He finally makes out the runway and feels the plane continue to drop in elevation. They land harshly, the plane shaking and rumbling as it comes to a stop. Louis isn’t getting off, so he stays in place as some passengers get off and go on their merry way. 

The sun’s completely out now, the sky is bright blue with big white fluffy clouds that look almost too perfect. He’s getting closer and closer to the California sun his skin has been craving for weeks now. It’s a pale tone, just as milky and white as it had been when he had lived in St. Louis, and he had almost grown used to it. The way it contrasts in the spaces between the ink of his tattoos covering his left arm. The way it looks next to Harry’s own skin. 

He looks down at his wrist and the fresh tattoo stares at him. Louis knows the thought is irrational, but he wants to scream at it. What was once a show of how the two of them complement each other is now a reminder of everything he’s now lost. 

Fuck, that hurts. 

Harry was his anchor, grounding him and reminding him to breathe when the thoughts got to be too much. Louis was his rope, wrapped around his being for dear life and so intertwined with his soul they were practically one. 

But even so, Louis doesn’t regret it for a second. He only regrets everything that came after. 

He still has another three hours until the plane lands in California and decides to sleep a bit longer. The plane’s still on the ground by the time he falls back to sleep. 

***

_ “Harry?”  _

_ He smiles sleepily, welcoming him back into the bed. “Sorry, I just had to pee. Did I wake you?”  _

_ Louis’ voice is rusty from sleep, a heavy rasp clinging to every word. “Nah, babe. Come on, cuddle me back to sleep.”  _

_ “Always, Lou,” Harry says, his arm coming to hook around Louis’ waist.  _

_ His eyes fall closed again, his hands tucked beneath the pillow. Harry’s fingers are messing with the hem of his shirt absentmindedly like he’s unaware he’s even doing it. His nose presses into Louis’ neck as he snuggles closer and he lets out a breathy sigh. “I love you, Louis Tomlinson.”  _

_ “And I love you, Harry Styles,” he responds, a smile turning up the corners of his lips.  _

_ “Then why did you do it?”  _

_ His brows furrow slightly in confusion, “Do what, H?”  _

_ “Leave me.”  _

Louis jerks awake. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. 

His whole body feels twisted up, a buzz under his skin that makes him hot and cold at the same time. He’s the textbook definition of uncomfortable, the dream shaking him to the point where he doesn’t have feeling in any of his limbs. He slowly wiggles his toes and fingers until the blood reaches them. He still feels in shock. 

The warmth from being in Harry’s arms had just felt so…  _ so real.  _

He checks to see how long he was asleep and notices he still has an hour. Ryan’s snoring softly neck to him, a blue neck pillow holding his head up. Louis smiles to himself and closes his eyes again. He’s just praying he doesn’t have another dream. 

If this what his life is going to be from now on, this constant yearning for Harry fucking Styles, then Louis isn’t sure he wants to live it. He just wishes life was easy. Why couldn’t he have his dream job and the man of his dreams? What atrocities did he commit in his past life to deserve this level of fucking from the universe? 

Harry’s the one who got away. The one who slipped through Louis’ fingers the second he got him. And that reality hurts, it hurts so fucking badly, that Louis just can’t accept it. 

He’s not going to lay down and die. Louis Tomlinson doesn’t give up. He’s not going to let him be the one that got away. He refuses to let that be their story. Their story is going to be long, filled with a love built to withstand anything, and it’s going to be theirs. Completely theirs. Unique to both of them and their experiences, both as individuals and with each other. Their grandkids are going to be getting a hell of a story someday, Louis is going to make sure of that. 

He’s practically buzzing with anticipation as the plane begins to land. They’re finally ( _ finally _ ) in Los Angeles and yet he’d rather be anywhere but here. A place he once considered home feels empty and vacant to him, the only significance it holds being the memories he has of it. But the person he made most of those memories with, Zayn, is in New York. Because unlike Louis he has half a brain and doesn’t freak out at the possibility of change. 

This landing is more smooth than the one in Denver but just barely so and he’s just about reading to start pushing people to get off this plane faster. Ryan wakes up, taking his sweet time grabbing his carry-on as Louis taps his foot impatiently. He wants to get off this plane and immediately buy another ticket. 

Oh God, he needs to learn impulse control. 

* * *

The flight back is almost worst because he can’t sit still at all. His mind racing while his fingers fidget and his leg bounces and he bites his nails and his eyes dart around the plane. So, yeah, he’s calm. Totally and completely calm, right? 

Of course, he doesn’t think to text Zayn or Haley to tell them he’s coming back before he’s on the plane and no text will go through. He has a direct this time, which means he’s about to spend five hours on a plane as a restless toddler. He can’t sleep, can’t use his phone for anything besides games without purchasing the in-flight wifi and there isn’t a movie for him to watch. He can already feel how long it’s going to be. 

All he can think about is Harry and how much he misses him. Which is kind of insane seeing as he had seen him only twelve hours ago. But there’s an ache spreading from his heart to his fingertips that can only be attributed to his body missing the feeling of being held by Harry. 

It’s like Harry is weaved into the fabric of his soul and the threads are straining as they get pulled apart. Maybe this was even a rip. But him getting on the plane back to New York is like him safety pinning it back together. He’s taking two pieces of a broken heart and putting them back together, securing them tightly so they never lose one another again. 

* * *

He lands in New York in the afternoon. 

He’s spent his whole day on a plane pretty much and ended up in the same place he had left. It’s fate, really. He and Harry are meant to be together, it just took him a bit to truly understand that. They’re soulmates. 

Soulmates. There’s that word again. 

Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. Louis can’t deny himself the happiness he derives from his relationship with Harry. Soulmates may not be real, but that is.  _ This  _ is. 

He finally calls Zayn who picks up after three rings. “ _ Louis?”  _

He bites his lip, a sudden nervous feeling washing over him. “Hey, um, I have news.” 

_ “Harry landed already? That’s wei-”  _

Louis cuts him off. “Harry? What? No, Z, I’m back in New York.” 

There’s a silence on the other line, followed by a heavy sigh,  _ “He went to LA. To tell you how much he loved you. I told him, I fucking told him you would come back, you bastard.”  _

“Harry’s in…” he almost chokes on the words. “He’s in LA?” 

He can feel Zayn’s frustration even through the phone.  _ “Yup, he is. Because nobody ever listens to me even though I am always, ALWAYS right. Ugh, okay. Louis, just come to the apartment we’ll figure this out okay?”  _

“O-okay, yeah. On my way,” he hangs up. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Harry is in Los Angeles? He went all the there to come get Louis. He wants to get back with him too. He went to LA. Harry fucking Styles took a plane across the country to try to convince him to be with him. Wow. This is Louis’ life now apparently. 

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re back, man,” Zayn says the second he walks through the door, hugging him tightly. 

It’s weirdly completely out of character and totally Zayn at the same time but Louis is too consumed with how happy he is to be back with his best friend he doesn’t analyze it. Louis not overthinking for once? That’s a new one. 

“I’m an idiot, Z. I’m sorry.” 

Zayn gives him a knowing smirk. “I knew you’d come back, Loverboy.” 

They share a smile, filled with all the words they don’t need to say and Louis is eternally grateful to have his brother. He pulls him in again for another hug before his phone begins to ring. “Shit, it’s Harry. I should answer this.” 

Louis panics. “Don’t tell him I’m in New York.” 

The ringtone still going off, Zayn questions him. “What? Why?” 

“I want to surprise him. Tell him I went to St. Louis and he should just come home. Okay?” 

Zayn’s eyes are still full of skepticism but he nods and finally answers the call. “Harry! Hey, how was the flight?” his voice is cheery and upbeat and decidedly not Zayn but he’s sure Harry doesn’t pick up on it. 

There’s a murmur on the other line and Zayn is nodding along to it. “Yeah, H. I just heard from Jay, Louis’ mom, and he’s in St. Louis… No, no, it’s not- He just needs some time, alright? Why don’t you come home? We’ll all hang out and try to cheer you up.” 

There’s another murmur but it’s louder and slightly angry. Zayn’s eyes are wide but he doesn’t let his voice show his nervousness. “Harry, I know him, okay? He’ll come around,” his eyes dart to Louis, “Please just come home?” 

A final murmur and Zayn says goodbye, pressing end call. 

There’s a silence to the room, an overarching tension caused by a lack of words. What do they say? Hey bro sorry, I left on a plane at four in the morning just to come back the same day. I mean… yeah, maybe he should apologize. But Zayn hasn’t said anything since the phone call either, which is either a very bad sign or a very good one. Louis just wants everything to go back to normal. The way it was before he had gone and complicated it. 

“You wanted to surprise him?” Zayn says finally. 

Louis is shaken from his thoughts but gathers his words quickly. “Yeah, I don’t know. Is it obvious I haven’t thought this through in the slightest?” 

“Painfully obvious, but also cute. Look, I’ll text Niall because he has a key to Harry’s place. We’re gonna make this a proper rom-com moment, Tommo.” 

He nods because he’s sure if he answers verbally it will come out wrong. He sits down at the couch, suddenly overwhelmed by everything that’s going on. Zayn taps at his phone and smiles down at him once he’s sent it off. “So, what made you change your mind?” 

Louis bites his lips. “I had always thought, I don’t know. I thought home was a place. Los Angeles was that for me. But that was wrong- I was wrong. Home isn’t a place, Z. It’s a person.” 

“And that person is Harry?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles, mostly to himself, “Yeah, Harry is my home.” 

Zayn takes a seat next to him and rests his arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Glad you finally realized it. Knew my best friend wasn’t a  _ total  _ idiot.” 

He smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Fuck off, would you?” 

“I’m being serious! I’m happy for you,” Zayn must realize how mushy the moment is getting because he tacks on a mumbled “dickhead” before rising from the couch. “Let’s go.” 

“Go where?” Louis questions. 

“I don’t know, to buy flowers and chocolates and one of those giant teddy bears. Let’s just try to make this a proper rom-com moment, yeah?” 

He chuckles softly and gets off the couch himself, following Zayn to the door. “Yeah, Z.” 

* * *

They meet Niall on the steps in front of Harry’s building at close to six. Harry apparently flew out to Los Angeles at around 8 am, meaning he should be home just about now. Zayn hands him the key, telling him that he and Niall will be just a phone call away no matter what happens.

Louis is equal parts nervous and excited, a strange sort of buzz running through his veins and a quick rhythm of his heart pounding against his ribcage. He can hear it in his ears and feel it in his fingertips. It’s like he’s on fire while enclosed in ice. He’s melting and freezing and he’s… everything and nothing all at once. It’s slightly overwhelming.

He walks through the familiar corridor, memories washing over him as he does. The peeling paint and discolored carpet hold more than just dust. They keep all of the good conversations and moments that he and Harry shared trapped between their fibers. Louis can feel every kiss, every touch, every lingering gaze, every drunken embrace, every whispered conversation as they stumbled through the halls. Every single moment he had shared with Harry in this dirty, gross hallway is flooding his mind and he’s never been so sure of something in his whole life. 

Louis was sure about coming to New York. He knew it was something he needed to do in order to make something of himself as a director. There was no hesitation. 

Louis was sure about Harry. He had his weak moments and faults, but deep down it was always Harry. Every kiss after the initial anxiety had dwindled was the opposite of hesitant. 

But when he went back to Los Angeles, he was unsure the whole time. Every step along the way was filled with questions. Should he do this? Is this the right thing to do? Is he being a total idiot? Is he making the biggest mistake of his life? 

And now, Louis is so sure. His decision has been made. It’s set in stone. With every step towards Harry’s door, it sinks in more and more that he wants this. He wants Harry. 

He wants everything with Harry. The good, the bad, the uncertain. Small moments shared under the covers on fall nights, when they both know they should be asleep but it feels so good to be with the other person you don’t want to miss a single second of it. Fleeting moments of realizing you want to marry this other person and spend every day of the rest of your life with them. Stolen moments between busy schedules where you can spend as much time with them as you can, soaking in every touch they give and every word they speak. And the big moments, too. The moments that seem too big for where they are. Confessing your love them in the parking lot of a Denny’s or proposing in a shopping mall or getting married at city hall. Big, life-changing moments spent in mundane places because it’s not where it happens that matters, it’s who it happens with. And Louis, he wants all of those things with Harry. 

He’s in love with Harry fucking Styles and he wants to shout it from the goddamn rooftops. 

He’s in love with Harry fucking Styles and he wants to be with him forever. 

He’s in love with Harry fucking Styles and he’s waiting in his apartment to tell him just that. 

In true movie fashion, that’s when Harry walks through his door. 

A black duffle slung around his shoulder and a well-worn gray hoodie on, his pants are soft and his shoes are easy to remove and he looks like he’s just been on a plane for 10 hours. Harry doesn’t react to the sight of Louis in front of him. They’re both frozen, no one moving even slightly as though the second they move the other will evaporate into thin air. 

“You… but I thought you were…” Harry trails off. “Fuck, I can’t believe you’re here.” 

And then he’s dropping his duffle and pulling Louis into a bone-crushing hug before Louis can even realize Harry’s even started speaking. 

He’s home. 

Louis pulls him closer, hands grasping at the hoodie so tight he might rip the fabric. There’s so much he wants to say but can’t. He’s overwhelmed with every single emotion possible but all that matters is that he’s here and Harry’s here and they’re together. 

He pulls back just enough to grab Harry’s neck and kiss him with a bruising force. Harry moans into it and reciprocates, hands moving to his waist on instinct. They kiss like that, Louis’ arms wrapped loosely around Harry’s shoulders with Harry’s hands planted to the area just above the waistband of his joggers, and don’t stop until they’re both out of breath. And even then, neither of them really wants to stop. 

“I’ve missed you so fucking much. I’m sorry, H. I’m so fucking sorry for leaving. It wasn’t right and I know that. I knew it the second I stepped on the plane that I fucked up-” 

Harry grabs his hand, interrupting his rambling. “It’s okay. You’re here now. We’re here.” 

“Still.” 

He hugs him tightly, his chin coming to rest on top of Louis’ head. “I love you, okay?” 

Louis squeezes him even tighter, like at any moment this will all disappear and he’ll wake up back in Los Angeles or on the plane. “I love you, too.” 

There’s a beat of silence where they just hold each other. It’s necessary. They’re speaking without really needing to. A testament to how well they know each other even in the short period of time that they’ve known each other. Louis wants to be in Harry’s arms forever. 

It’s Harry who finally breaks the silence. 

“Stay,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Louis doesn’t know how to respond, so he kisses him once more. It’s slow and hopefully conveying everything that his words can’t. Harry nips as his bottom lip and slides his tongue in like he’s not sure if he’s imagining this or not. His hands cup Harry’s jaw, tilting his head slightly. That deepens the kiss, a small moan escaping from one of them, or both of them, he can’t tell which because the sound vibrates between both of them and he pulls back a second time. 

The moment is too big for this setting, it’s something fit for a movie screen but it’s being shared between the two of them at six in the evening in a tiny New York apartment while both of them are exhausted from all the flying but it’s still perfect. More than perfect. Because it’s them. 

“I’ll stay,” he states with so much finality he’s almost surprised by it. 

Harry’s face lights up. “Good. I never want to lose you, you dick.” 

Louis is sure his face is just as bright. “Me neither, you dick.” 

Maybe soulmates exist after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be an epilogue but it'll be short. thank u for reading. ily all.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanna say how much i appreciate every single one of you who took the time to read my fic, leave kudos or even comment. it means a lot. honestly, it does. to Sydney who helped so much with editing and getting me through writing it, this is for you. i miss you so much and can't wait to see you. 
> 
> to everyone else, you're wonderful. now enjoy.

**One Year Later**

“Louis?” he calls, stepping through the threshold of their apartment. 

He answers from his spot in the kitchen, a rushed “hey babe, in here” and tries his best to act like he wasn’t doing anything. 

Harry sees right through it, because obviously he does, and questions him immediately. “Whatcha’ doing?” 

“Me?” Louis questions, his voice raises an octave, “Absolutely nothing.” 

Harry laughs, setting his stuff down on the island and crosses over to study the pasta sitting in the strainer, and the sauce splattered across the stovetop. “Looks like you were trying to cook.” 

Louis elbows him lightly. “Not everyone was born without any flaws, okay Harold? 

He hums, picking up a partially limp spaghetti noodle. “Chinese or Mexican?” 

He huffs. “Mexican.” 

Most of their nights, except the ones where Harry is home in time to cook, they get takeout. Louis has tried, really he has, but he cannot cook. Harry enjoys it but with him and the boys in the process of recording their debut album, he’s been getting home too late and too tired to actually cook. 

A little over three months after they had gotten back together, they had been approached by some guy who scouts bars looking for musicians. It turned out he was legit, working for a decently big label and after recording a demo they had scored themselves a three-year recording contract. All three of the guys had been overjoyed and he, Zayn, and Haley had been just as excited for them. 

Zayn managed to score a seat in the writer’s room of an NBC sitcom, eventually convincing them to let Louis tag along. The two of them are quite the pair, often writing scenes together for two specific characters that have morphed into TV versions of them more-or-less. 

Haley and Niall finally decided to stop pretending like everyone didn’t already know and tell the rest of the group they were dating, the four of them had faked being surprised for all of five minutes before the teasing had begun. But deep down everyone was really happy for them. 

Liam and Sophia got engaged around a month ago, prompting everyone in the friend group to suddenly start asking Louis and Harry when one of them was going to pop the question. 

And they’ve talked about it… sort of. 

The only conversation they’ve had was a one-off late at night when Harry had mumbled “you think we’ll get married?” and Louis had responded “definitely” without hesitation. But other than that it’s been radio silence. Louis is sure he wants to marry him but he’s not sure which one of them asks or if they’re even ready for something like that. 

They’ve made plans with the rest of their friends to go to the bar tonight. They don’t play every Friday night anymore, but they still play the occasional show. It’s packed tonight, busier than Louis has ever seen it, and he’s got a perfect view of Harry from his seat. He and Haley drool over their boyfriends for most of it, Zayn jabbing at them both. 

Harry plays “the hits” like Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Fix and Adore You, and some new stuff like Canyon Moon and Hey Angel. But it’s not until the final song that Louis begins to truly understand how Harry is made to be on stage entertaining people. It’s Sweet Creature, a relatively new one that he’s made it clear he’s nervous about playing, and it’s one of Louis’ favorites. The whole crowd stops to watch, so captivated by Harry’s presence they can’t do anything but watch on as Harry sings into the microphone with his guitar rested on his thighs as he strums. Louis is so lucky. 

He finishes the song, loud applause erupting through the bar, and he can only smile. His signature dimpled smile is brighter than normal and he looks to Louis, almost on instinct, and waits for the applause to die down to speak. 

“Hey, I’m Harry. We’re One Direction,” there are a few cheers from the crowd. “We’ve played here a long time. This place it’s… it’s really special. It’s where I met my boyfriend, Louis, and where Niall met his girlfriend, Haley. And it means a lot to us that you still enjoy watching us play,” he chuckles nervously, setting his guitar down. “That’s why it’s the perfect place for this.” 

Perfect place for what? 

That question is answered when Harry gestures for Louis to come on stage. 

Louis gets off his stool and walks towards the stage, half-aware that every single eye is currently on him. Harry’s eyes are twinkling brightly at him as he finally makes it to the stage. 

“So, um, Lou?” he says, hand reaching into his pocket. “I’ve been thinking about doing this pretty much since the day I met you, really,” a chuckle runs through the audience, “And this year with you has been so, so great. I love you, I love you so much. Louis,” he drops down to one knee, pulling his hand out of his pocket to reveal a black velvet box, “I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me. Louis, all my songs are for you. Every single one. You’re the most important person in my life, by far. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I really can’t. Which only makes asking this that much easier,” he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “So, Louis William Tomlinson, will you marry me?” 

He doesn’t even need to think. “Yes, fuck yes. Of course, yes. I love you,” he lets Harry slip the ring on his finger before pulling him up and kissing him. 

The applause, almost deafening, is the only reminder he has that, yes, this is real. That did just really happen to him. He is that lucky. 

Louis is so in love with Harry fucking Styles, and Harry loves him right back. 

All of Harry’s songs, they’re for him. Every single one. 

Fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave feedback?


End file.
